#her looks here fit her original world too!!!!

[mandoart]

its her! my mc again lol

[erinwantstowrite]

Halloween AU!!!

hey so. i put SOOOOO much effort into this au and for what? at least it ended up looking cool? anyways Halloween is my favorite holiday and i just HAD to make something for them!

i had a LOT of ideas for what everyone would be, but i really wanted to stick to a certain theme cause it's based around Halloween. i knew i had to have a vampire, werewolf, and a witch. cause like... obviously. iconic Halloween stuff!! but i took some liberties with everyone else and i think they turned out pretty cool!!

Jason was originally a fox shifter (which i still love and might draw art for some day) but i went with a bear in the end. is that because i thought about tiny bear cub Jaybin and wanted to cry? yeah. yeah it is. i KNEW Steph was going to be my werewolf though i started doubting myself when i went to draw her. turned out to be my favorite drawing on here which makes sense cause she is my light my love my daughter my will to live and all that jazz

Tim was actually gonna be a harpy but thank god i didn't go for that in the end. Duke was the one that was a bitch and a half trying to figure out BUT!! comments on the post asking what y'all thought led me towards Psychic so THANK YOUUUU everybody that commented!! (specifically those who thought of ghost!! Duke and Tim ended up being a perfect duo in this au)

Babs was pretty easy to figure out what I wanted for her. I read somewhere that they are seen as protectors of forests/ are considered spiritual authority figures and also.... she looks cool as fuck. Did not expect how easy it was to find a ref for a deer in a wheelchair though? I can never find the right hand or face angle reference but that was super easy???

For Bruce there was literally no question he HAD to be human. it's literally so funny that everyone who knows Batman thinks he's a spooky vampire but he's human. his first son, however?????? THAT'S the vampire. I knew Dick had to be a vampire too. A little nod towards that one comic run but in my au nothing bad happens ever 🥰 Damian also being a bat shifter is very on purpose because how funny is it that he's a bat man. Literally not a single person in the League thinks that Bruce is telling the truth about being human. Bruce you are NOT beating the secretly a vampire allegations.

adding in Jay's hilarious joke it's so fucking funny:

Alfred is actually a demon. I CAN NOT remember who made this post so if someone can help me find it, it would be appreciated!! because this was inspired by them!!! but somewhere i saw someone talk about Alfred being a demon that Thomas and Martha made a deal with (i think it was for an au idea?) and I just HAD to put it here. Alfred looks so human and everyone expects it, but he's definitely not. I put the ??? because it's so fucking funny. see if you can spot the 1 hint i put on his drawing that something is amiss!!

Peter is from an alternate dimension still, but it is not a world of creatures like him, it's just the same as LoF canon except Peter grew some extra limbs and eyes. He finds that it's actually pretty easy to fit in with the Waynes. Hard to feel like a freak when a guy can turn into a fucking bear, or your dad is a vampire, and the teenagers in the family are trying to summon ghosts or make potions.

additional doodles for this au:

i am still debating whether i am going to draw something for this au or write a oneshot, but i DO want to do something with these for Halloween

[incognit0slut]

Angel

PART 5 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Single Dad!Spencer x Nanny!Reader Spencer likes having you around to look after his daughter, in fact, he likes you a bit too much.

content: (18+) 5.4k, breeding kink, fingering, fem oral, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, d/s dynamic but he still tries to be a gentleman although reader doesn’t want him to, mutual pining, body worship with slight religious metaphors bc he’s down so bad, and of course sweet aftercare a/n: 1) i know the gif isn’t spencer but i just had to; 2) i changed the title from the original plan bc i was listening to angel baby while writing this; 3) if i have the chance to describe his happy trail and tummy i will in a heartbeat; 4) this fic is basically the epitome of D-I-L-F!

“I want you to understand,” he mutters against your skin, kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear, “that I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

A hand creeps up the back of his neck. “What if I want you to?”

“I’m serious.”

“I am serious. I’m not the one hesitating.”

His hand glides slowly up your side, fingertips barely ghosting over your skin, and a soft, shaky breath escapes his lips. “I’m trying to be responsible."

“I think we’re past being responsible,” you counter as his fingers trace your waist. “What are you so worried about, anyway? You’re not forcing me into anything.”

“I want to make sure you don’t feel like—” his fingers twitch, lingering over your bare skin, “—like I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

“I’m literally naked under you,” you remind him. “If anyone’s taking advantage here, it’s me.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you feel the slow rise and fall of his chest as he exhales. “You’re making this really hard, you know that?”

“That’s kind of the point.”

And it’s true, Spencer realizes with a rush of heat, because he’s incredibly hard, the heavy length of his cock pressed against your stomach while he braces his weight above you. His lungs tighten, squeezing around breaths that feel too thick to swallow as his teeth graze his lower lip. It takes everything in him to keep from losing himself when his mind is already slipping.

How could he have ever imagined it would go this far?

Spencer can’t quite make sense of how this quiet, unassuming crush that crept in the first time he saw you with his daughter has led to this. It wasn’t anything grand or sudden, just this slow bloom that unfurled every time he caught you reading to Violet or laughing with her over some little joke in the living room. There was just something about the way you slipped so easily into his life, fitting into the spaces he hadn’t realized were empty until you filled them.

He’d never let himself imagine it would go beyond that. He’d convinced himself those feelings for you were just something he’d have to live with quietly, a small ache that would fade with time. But somehow, despite his best efforts to keep it hidden, you’d found your way to him. And against all his expectations, you liked him back. You like him enough that you’re now wearing nothing but a smile.

Flushed skin kissed by the moonlight spilling through the window.

Innocent eyes touched with a hint temptation.

It all feels like some sort of surreal dream.

The moment that led to this replays in his mind, clear as daylight even if it happened well past midnight. He’d gotten home somewhere between too late and way too late, running on nothing but caffeine and sugar, and there you were, leaning casually against the kitchen counter like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You started talking about your day with Violet, recounting how you’d taken her to the park, read her favorite book before bed, and how she’d peppered you with endless questions about why the sky changes colors when the day changes into night. But something was different in your voice, a softness to the way you said his name, and your gaze lingered on him just a beat longer than usual. It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing he could point to and say that’s it, but he felt it. An almost imperceptible shift in the air.

Before he knew it, he had crossed the room and kissed you. He should’ve thought it through or paused to consider the consequences, but the way you responded made it clear you’d been waiting just as long for his attention.

His shoulders fall with a quiet exhale.

“This could get complicated,” he continues, as if reminding you (and maybe himself) that there’s a line between employee and employer that he’s about to cross. A line that could change everything between you both once it’s blurred. “We should think about what this means.”

“We’ve had plenty of time to think. If you wanted to stop, you would’ve done it already.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.”

“Then please enlighten me.”

Instead of answering right away, he leans in, his lips finding the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, and then he’s gently pulling the tender flesh between his lips that draws a sudden moan from your throat. The sound seems to fuel him, and before you can even register what’s happening, his fingers are already slipping lower, exploring the soft space between your thighs.

“What if I want more than this?” His fingers inch closer, teasingly brushing against your heat with a slowness that borders on torment. “What if I want everything?”

Your hips buck against his hand. “Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Not just tonight.”

The words send a ripple of electricity that blooms deep in your core. When his fingers finally slip between your folds, a sharp gasp escapes your lips before you can hold it back.

“You… you mean you want�� more than this? More than just us… here?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice catching like gravel in his throat as his fingers trace over the slickness he’s found. “Does that scare you?”

For a moment, words fail you. The slow, coaxing rhythm of his fingers pulls you deeper into a haze where coherent thoughts are hard to grasp. There’s a pause, a heartbeat where he stops. Waiting.

“No,” you confess, the truth slipping out more easily than you expected. “It doesn’t.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “It doesn’t?”

Your lungs expand, filling with a rush of oxygen and a nervous flutter that lands somewhere in the pit of your stomach. “I think this is the right time to tell you I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

Spencer stays motionless for a beat. Then something shifts—his gaze softens, and a small, almost incredulous smile curves his lips. “You have a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

“As in… you have feelings for me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you’re not just… turned on right now?”

“Well, that too,” you admit with a grin, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. “But it’s more than that. I really like you.”

His smile widens, and his fingers begin to move again, circling your clit with just the right pressure to pull a sharp intake of breath from you. It’s as though your confession is a final green light he’d been waiting for. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your teeth catch your lip, struggling to hold back fragments of breath. “I thought it was obvious,” you manage between heavy exhales. “Why do you think I always stay late?"

"To avoid traffic?"

You huff. "I tried to be around you as much as possible, Spencer."

His fingers toy at the edge of your entrance, tracing the slick, warm wetness that clings to his skin as a quiet hum rumbles in his chest. “You know I’m not always the best at picking up social cues.”

“You’re a profiler.” Your breath catches halfway between a gasp and a sigh when he slides a finger in. “You're supposed to notice everything."

He lets your words settle, eyes narrowing slightly as he turns them over in his mind.

“I guess I was too focused on trying not to cross any lines to see the ones you were trying to draw."

A soft moan escapes your lips as another finger slides in.

“I'm… glad you finally caught on."

"I'm catching on now.”

His eyes drop to the way your body greedily takes his fingers. The sight alone sends a rush of heat straight to his gut like a line of fire winding up through his chest and spreading into his limbs. You’re dripping, the slick sound of your arousal nearly derails him as he continues to watch the wetness coat his fingers with every slow thrust.

“Since when have you had this crush?” He asks curiously.

There’s a beat of silence, only punctuated by the soft, breathy noises escaping you. When he finally looks up, he catches the way your face scrunches in pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes barely open, and he can’t help but find it almost unbearably adorable. The corners of his lips twitch with a quiet laugh before he leans in, pressing the softest it’s okay, you can tell me kiss against your lips.

“Since when?”

You blink your eyes open at his question, and there’s a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Since—” you start, but your voice catches when he curls his fingers slightly, and you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a barely-contained grin.

“Since?” he prompts again.

You swallow the lump tightening in your throat. “Since you interviewed me for the job."

He absorbs your words. "That’s… more than a while."

"It was innocent at the time," you confess, trying to regain some control over your thoughts. "Just a silly little crush."

His pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, and whatever sense of composure you had left is slipping away piece by piece. “What changed?”

Desperation claws at you with every passing second, your hips moving against his hand as you scramble to gather your thoughts. But the way his fingers are mapping every sensitive spot makes it nearly impossible to articulate anything coherent. He doesn’t miss the way your breath stutters, or how your words break apart into fragmented attempts to answer.

“I-I—” you stammer, wincing as the words catch in your throat before you finally manage to continue, “I probably shouldn’t say…”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing."

He lets out a soft laugh. “Tell me anyway,” he urges. “I want to hear it.”

You fall quiet again, and the only sounds that fill the space between you is the ragged pull of your breaths and the slick rhythm of his fingers pumping lazily inside you. The words sit heavy on your tongue, threatening to disappear if you don’t say them quickly enough.

"Remember when… you taught Violet how to… ride her bike?”

He tilts his head slightly. There’s a furrow in his brow as he searches your face. “You’re going to have to be more specific, there were a lot of lessons.”

“The very first time.”

“Ah,” he muses. “Around June, then.”

You nod. “When I… saw you with her that day, I-I… I got curious.”

His fingers falter, just slightly, the subtle pause enough to show that you’ve grabbed his attention. “Curious?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You were so adorable with her… and I started thinking about what it would be like… to have your kids.”

If there was ever a moment to leave him utterly speechless, this was it. His brain seems to stall, the gears grinding to a halt as the reality of what you’ve said settles in. He’s spent so much time trying to be the one holding it all together, but now? Now all he could picture was you holding a baby—his baby—and the thought sent his mind reeling, knocking him off balance in a way he didn’t expect.

“You… thought about that?”

Your fingers trails his shoulder before slipping up into his hair, curling gently at the nape of his neck. “It crossed my mind more than once.”

“That’s—” wow. He leans his forehead against yours. “Not embarrassing. At all.”

“Really?”

“That’s probably the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life.”

You let out a soft chuckle, gently pulling on his curls before drawing his bottom lip into a gentle suck. “It’s never been innocent since then.”

Goosebumps rises along his skin, and the heat pooling low in his stomach tightens as he grows impossibly harder. “Yeah?”

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time.”

His jaw clenches.

He’s so close to completely losing it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he mutters, pressing his fingers deeper inside you.

“Why.. why not?”

“Because I might give you exactly what you want.” When he feels you clench around him, he huffs in amusement. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

There’s a tender spot he finds deep inside, one that feels achingly sensitive, and your mouth falls open, a soundless gasp escaping before you can catch it.

“You really mean it,” he says, more a realization than a question, as he watches your body go pliant beneath his touch.

“I do,” you manage to say.

“You want me that way?”

You nod frantically. “Want your cum in me.”

The second those words leave your lips, his groan rumbles through his chest, and you swallow it down as his mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing and tongues tangling in a chaotic rhythm that’s both desperate and needy. When he finally pulls away, you’re left panting, your lips swollen, his forehead resting against yours.

“Never would’ve guessed you had such a dirty mouth."

"There's a lot of thing you don't know about me."

His breath brushes against your lips as he whispers, “I’m starting to figure that out.”

When he slowly withdraws his fingers, you can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your throat. Your eyes follow his every move as he sits up and settles between your thighs. You’ve always thought Spencer was an attractive man, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t admired the way his shirts fit just snug enough to hint at what was underneath. But seeing him naked like this? That was a whole new level of breathtaking.

Your gaze trails down his frame, landing on the soft curve of his stomach, something you'd secretly adored every time it pressed against his dress shirts. It was even more captivating without anything hiding it now, especially with the trail of dark hair leading down. Soft, scattered strands, drawing your eyes right to the place where you can’t help but stare.

He gives himself a slow pump. Once. Twice. And then, finally, you feel the firm pressure of his tip pressing between your folds.

“Are you sure?” he asks, the head of his cock sliding over your sensitive skin. “There's a condom in my drawer."

Your body tenses at the thought of him pulling back, and without thinking, your hand reaches between the two of you, wrapping around his cock before he can pull away. “When was the last time you got tested?”

He exhales sharply. “A few months ago,” he mutters, hips twitching against your grip despite himself. “If there was any risk, I wouldn’t even consider this without telling you.”

“I got tested last month,” you assure him quickly. “We’re both safe.”

He nods absentmindedly. “We can… still grab the condom if you want…”

“Spencer,” you interrupt, gently brushing the bead of precum that had formed at his tip. “I thought I made it clear I want you to cum inside me.”

He can only stare as your delicate finger trails along the thick vein. It feels like all the oxygen he’s desperately clinging to has been sucked from his lungs.

“I know you said you don’t want to take advantage of me…” you continue, guiding him right to your entrance. “But I really want you to.”

He finally lets out a low, gruff sound, something between a growl and a sigh as he slowly pushes himself in. His eyes are locked on the sight of your walls stretching to accommodate his size, watching as your body struggles to take him.

"You should stop talking like that," he rasps through gritted teeth. "I’m barely holding it together."

"Here's another thing you should know about me.”

He ruts gently into you. A push. A pull.

A heartbeat in between.

“I really like it rough."

That’s all it takes.

He slams his hips into yours.

Intense doesn’t even begin to describe what he feels. It’s more like a surge, a rush of heat and desperation that floods every inch of him the same time you cry out. His throat tightens, constricting around breaths he can’t seem to catch as he resorts to inhaling sharply through his nose.

“Jesus… you feel so—” His words falter, his voice rough and breathless as his fingers figs into your skin. His chest rises and falls with each labored breaths, and his eyes squeezes shut for a moment.

Tight. Warm. Wet. That’s exactly how you feel.

"Perfect." His large hands grips your waist. “You’re perfect.”

You mewl at his words, the sound spilling from your lips before you can stop it, and the soft, needy noise is enough to make his eyes flicker open. He begins to pull back, just enough to make you whimper from the sudden loss of contact, but before you can catch your breath, he snaps his hips forward with a rough, powerful thrust.

Your hands fly to his arms, holding onto him tightly. "Spencer… Please…”

He lets out a sigh.

No man is immune to that tone of desperation, least of all Spencer. Not when you’re offering yourself to him like something out of a dream. Not when your eyes lock onto his with a look that belongs more to an angel—if angels could be so helpless and desperate. Because what angel pleads with every breath for more?

What angel cries out as he holds your hips firmly in place and thrusts with a force that drives you to the brink of sanity?

He’s mesmerized. His eyes track the way your breasts bounce with each snap of his hips. There’s something almost greedy in the way his gaze roams over you, but it’s when he locks onto where your bodies meet that he really loses himself. A glossy ring coats his cock each time he pulls out, and when he pushes back in, the friction between your bodies creates a lewd, wet sound that fills the room.

He laughs. Not out of mockery, but out of sheer delight.

You’re an angel wrapped in sin.

“I can’t—oh god, right there—” Your nails leave little crescents moon on his skin. “You’re so… so deep.”

You’re really testing his limits, and Spencer knows he’s very far from a violent man, but right now, the temptation to cover your mouth with his hand is becoming dangerously real. Although with the way you’re writhing beneath him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, he’s sure you’d probably enjoy it.

“Spencer…”

His balls slaps your ass as he slams into you.

“O-Oh—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He squeezes your waist tightly. “Already?”

“Ngh.”

Your grip loosens on his arm, and before he can fully process what’s happening, your fingers dance along your clit. It takes all his willpower not to spill into you right then and there when he feels you tighten around him in response. But he holds on, because he needs you to cum first. He needs to feel your velvety walls flutter along the rigid veins of his cock, needs to watch the way your body tenses with pleasure.

He needs to feel it more than once.

He lets you have your first orgasm. Although letting seems like the wrong word. There’s nothing passive about it. He’s making you cum, driving you to it with each calculated thrust. You’re toying with your clit, rubbing in frantic circles just like you do whenever you touch yourself with the thought of him, but this time, it’s even more intense. This time, he’s inside you. And this time, it takes only a few moments for the tension to snap.

You clamp down on him. Hard. So hard that his movement falters for a second, but he quickly recovers, thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm. Just as you start to catch your breath, he pulls out, and you’re left in that delicious, dizzy haze, but your mind is even more disoriented when his face suddenly lowers between your thighs.

“Oh, you’re gonna—” you moan as his shoulders nudge your legs apart, opening you wider for him. “Spencer, you don’t have to—”

Before you can finish, before you even take another breath, the tip of his tongue flicks out.

“I want to.”

And he means it. He dives in with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt. His tongue starts firm and flat, pressing against you before dragging slowly upward, gathering your slickness in one deliberate sweep. Then he changes rhythm, the broad strokes shifting into something more focused, alternating between gentle flicks and deep, hungry pulls, and it’s doing things to you that no amount of late-night fantasies could have prepared you for.

Your head is all over the place that you reach out blindly, trying to find something solid, but the air merely glides over your skin. You stretch for the edge of the bed, fingertips just skimming the surface before your arms flail helplessly in the empty space. He notices your struggle almost immediately, and without missing a beat, he pulls back, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Here,” he says, reaching out his arms toward you. “Give me your hands.”

Gladly. The second your fingers lock with his, a sense of grounding floods you, though it does nothing to ease the intensity of what he’s doing. If anything, it sharpens. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders flex under your thighs as he positions himself. And sure, your legs somehow feel weightless, like they’re floating in the air, but the rest of you?

You’re a mess of nerve endings on fire.

It’s impossible to think clearly when every cell in your body is buzzing. Your thoughts scatter the second his mouth moves in that devastating way, driving you out of your mind. You try to hold on to some semblance of control, but who are you kidding? He has officially turned you into a puddle of desperate, needy nerves, and you don’t even care.

It doesn’t take long before that coil snaps, and when it does, your entire body trembles. It’s always the second orgasm. The first is a tease, a little warm-up. The second one is the worst—or the best, depending on how you look at it. It doesn’t just tug at your edges, it tears right through, leaving you gasping and shaking and completely undone like every part of you has been pulled apart and put back together very wrong.

His mouth is glazed with your slick when he finally pulls away. “Good?”

You can barely feel your legs.

“Speechless,” is your answer.

His nose twitches in amusement as his hand leaves yours only for them to slide down your body, gently coaxing your legs to wrap around his waist. “Continue?”

“Please.”

A palm slips down your thigh. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip as he hovers above you. “About what?”

“About taking advantage of you.”

You huff out a sigh. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Say it again,” he urges, guiding his cock smoothly along your folds before your whines travel into his ears. Ah, there it is. This is the sound that would greet him in heaven, if such a place existed for someone like him. Men who’ve taken lives to save others. Men who carry too many regrets to count. Spencer knows he’s not the kind of person heaven was built for, but if it were, he’s certain it would sound exactly like the breathy moan that escapes your lips.

And he’s tasted the afterlife, once, when he was younger—drifting somewhere between consciousness and oblivion with a ghost of a needle stuck in his arm. But nothing about that brush with death was like this. This feels like he’s been pulled back into something he didn’t believe he deserved.

“Say it again.”

He’s pleading now. It sounds awfully like a prayer.

“I want you to take advantage of me,” you say, the words spilling from your lips like a soft, sinful confession, music to his ears. An angel. “I want all of it.”

He takes your hands again. “So you won’t be mad if I get a little rough?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

That’s all he needs. He gently pushes your hands above your head, pinning them to the mattress, his fingers lacing through yours as his weight presses you into the bed. There’s a sudden rush—like a switch has flipped that it knocks the breath out of you. Your heart skips a beat, but not from nerves. No, this is anticipation, excitement.

You test his hold on you, just to see what happens, but his grip stays firm, almost daring you to resist.

“You asked for this,” he warns as he shifts his hips, aligning himself right to your entrance.

You shake your head. “I begged for this.”

He laughs, a flash of teeth in the dim light. “Yeah,” he breathes, his grip tightening as he presses deeper, “you did.”

A breathless whine escapes your lips as he fills you.

Angel, angel, angel.

He looks at you with a kind of reverence that borders on worship, though his movements are anything but saintly. There’s nothing gentle or innocent about the way he’s taking you, and there’s a quiet madness in the way you respond. Making love would be too tame, too soft for what this is. But fucking seems too crude, too disconnected for the way your eyes meet his, for the way you say his name like a prayer and a demand all at once.

The moment your voice breaks, breathless and needy, something inside him snaps. He feels the tightness coiling in his gut, and once it starts, there’s no stopping it. The pressure is mounting, and with every hard thrust it becomes harder to hold back. He knows he should slow down, give you a moment to catch your breath, but he can’t—his body won’t let him.

His fingers tighten around yours. He’s moving with a single-minded intensity now, pushing you flat against the mattress, your body pliant beneath him. The bed creaks every time he moves and your legs wrap tighter around his hips as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Spencer leans down, brushing his lips against yours, so close but never quite closing the distance, like even the simplest kiss would shatter him too soon. Instead, he rests his forehead on top of yours and whispers, “l’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, like he’s stuck on some endless loop. It’s not a real apology, not for anything he’s done, but for how much he needs you and how he’s afraid of breaking you with how much he can’t hold back.

He’s so close and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m—” He groans as he feels the tension in his body snap, the wave building up in his spine and crashing down with brutal intensity. “I—fuck—I can’t hold it—”

You’re barely coherent yourself, but your voice comes out strong. A little breathless.

“Inside,” you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist. “I want it inside.”

Your words push him over the edge. He shudders, hips stuttering as he buries himself as deep as he can the moment the last thread of his restraint snaps. He can feel it, the way he pulses inside you, filling you completely. Every thrust is accompanied by a harsh groan as his release paints your walls, and the sound of your soft, desperate whines only pushes him deeper into the overwhelming pleasure.

When it finally becomes too much, he carefully pulls out. But the intensity is still coursing through his veins, and he’s too addicted to the sound of your sound, too drawn to the way your body trembles beneath him.

His hand drifts from your wrist almost on instinct, tracing its way down between your legs. He doesn’t need to see the mess he’s made—he can feel it. There’s a fleeting moment where he pauses, almost in awe, before his fingers brush over your clit, and your hips jerk in response. He’s not even sure if he’s teasing you or himself at this point, but he’s too far gone to care.

He slides two fingers inside you.

Your back arches instantly, your nipples brushing against his chest, and you gasp, fully aware of what he’s trying to do. “Oh… I—I can’t…”

He shakes his head. “You can,” he reassures you, watching in fascination as he pushes the white liquid of his release deeper into you. His gaze snaps back to yours. “I think you can give me one more.”

Your body trembles, and you can’t hold back the soft, broken cry that escapes your lips.

“Spencer…”

He loosens his grip on your hand, guiding it gently to rest around his neck. “Please,” he begs, his lips brushing your skin, “for me?”

The way he says it makes it impossible for you to deny him. And he knows it. He feels it in the way your nails dig into the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the tension inside you builds again. His fingers work faster, more desperate now, curling inside you just the way you like.

He’s watching, waiting, and when you finally cum again, it’s like witnessing something so divine. Your body shakes beneath him, a violent, beautiful quake that feels like it’s pulling him into its orbit. He’s unable to tear his eyes away as your head tilts back, lips parting with a choked moan that’s as delicate as it is devastating like an angel’s breath caught on the edge of rapture.

If angels looked this breathtaking in heaven, no wonder people were willing to risk damnation.

Spencer smiles wryly to himself.

Since when did he become so religious?

Another strangled moan escapes your lips. When your orgasm finally subsides, your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and with what little strength you have left, you reach up and yank weakly at his mop of brown curls.

“…no more.”

He smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “No more,” he agrees, pulling his fingers from you carefully.

Without saying a word, he slips off the bed and disappears from the room, only to come back with a damp towel in his hand. You expect him to hand it over to you, but you’re surprised when he kneels at the edge of the bed, gently spreading your legs apart.

Your skin tingles under his gaze as he stares at the mess between your thighs.

“That was…” he starts as he begins to wipe the towel over you. “…very reckless of us.”

With a small, tired smile, you mutter, “You don’t seem too bothered by it.”

He glances up at you. “I’m not,” he admits, finishing his cleanup and setting the towel aside. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t at least pretend to be responsible.”

You reach for him as he climbs back into bed. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m on birth control?”

He exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his body visibly relaxing as he lets out a quiet laugh. “It definitely helps,” he says, tucking you under his chin, “but I’m still going to try to be more careful next time.”

Your grin is as wide as the warmth spreading through your chest. “Next time?”

He smiles softly. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“Which part? You said a lot of things.”

“You know what I mean,” he insists.

“I know. But I want to hear it again.”

The tip of his nose brushes yours. “I want everything.”

“Everything?”

“Every single part of you.”

You take a deep breath. A whiff of his sweat and the faintest trace of soap clings around your senses until you release a happy sigh. “Do you think Violet will be okay with this? With us?”

His hand slips to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts his head to look at you. “She already loves you,” he reassures you. “She’s more adaptable than you think. And she trusts you.”

“But... what if it changes things for her?”

“It will change things,” he admits. “But all the changes will be good ones."

You mull over his words. “You think so?”

“I know so, because you make her happy. You make both of us happy, an—”

He stops, his lips just barely parted as he catches himself.

He almost said it. He almost called you angel.

“What?”

He shakes his head slightly, a faint embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m just really happy,” he explains, his fingers absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. There’s a curious look in your eyes, but instead of pressing him, you bury yourself into his neck, which he’s quietly grateful for because he’s not sure he could have explained himself without sounding like a total sap.

And maybe he is a sap, but even he’s aware that words like that shouldn’t be thrown around too soon, especially after just one night. Not before things settle in, before everything feels a little less like a dream and more like reality.

But he thinks about it. Oh, he thinks about it. The word stubbornly lingers at the edge of his mind he’s keeping for another time. He imagines letting it slip on some quiet morning, when you’re half-asleep and bundled in his shirt, golden sunlight filtering through the window to cast a warm glow across your skin. Or maybe when you meet him at the door after a long day, and Violet runs up, chattering away while you smile at him with that look that feels like coming home.

He can picture it falling easily from his lips someday, maybe even in a future where you’re holding the baby you had wondered about having with him and he’s standing there, watching you like someone who can’t quite believe his luck.

He’ll say it with a kind of certainty then. Not as a prayer, not as some lofty declaration of divine grace.

And when that moment comes, without hesitation, he’ll finally call you his angel.

[mugglebornmarvelite]

BUT IMAGINE SUNSHINE DRAGGING BUCKY TO A PHOTOBOOTH AND HE PULLS HER ONTO HIS LAP ‘CAUSE HE’S TOO BIG FOR HER TO ALSO FIT IN THE SEAT

Mall Day

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: Despite his best efforts to stay unimpressed, Bucky ends up indulging in your playful antics, finding himself completely disarmed and charmed by you.

Word Count: Roughly 1.1k 

Warnings: Fluff, cheeky moments, awkwardness, sarcasm, a little romantic tension, Bucky being a soft dom (manhandling and praise), affectionate teasing

Author’s Note: Thank you for the request, babe! This was such a cute idea, I hope it was to your liking. It was originally going to be a short blurb, but I made it into a mall day! @ghostlyfleur <3

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Divider by: @strangergraphics 

It was supposed to be a peaceful day off for the Avengers. The sun was out, the mall was bustling, and for once, everyone had agreed to take a break from saving the world.

But for Bucky Barnes, the day was already feeling like a test of patience.

He wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of a crowded mall. The noise, the chaos, the shiny stores full of overpriced trinkets. It just wasn’t his scene. 

But you were you. And he would do anything for you.

And with no match against you and your little smile, you dragged him around the mall for the past hour like a hyperactive puppy.

You were practically bouncing with excitement as you skipped from one shop to the next, and Bucky, despite his grumbles and sighs, was always just a step behind you, keeping a close eye on you.

“Bucky, come on!” you said, turning back with your bright, infectious smile. “Hurry up! We’re gonna miss all the fun!”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t get yourself killed in a mall,” Bucky grumbled, his voice low but fond.

You shot him a grin. “That’s why I came with you, big guy.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, letting you pull him along.

You had this way of getting under his skin, making him smile even when he was trying to stay grumpy.

Just as you were about to break into a sprint to your favorite store, you tripped over your own feet. 

Instinctively, Bucky’s hand shot out to catch you, pulling you against his chest.

“Careful, sunshine,” he muttered, his voice unusually soft. His hand lingered at your waist for a moment longer than necessary, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your jacket. “One of these days, I’m gonna need to wrap you in bubble wrap.”

“Thanks for the rescue, grumpy bear.” You giggled and straightened up, swatting his arm lightly. “But I’m fine!”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Bucky grumbled, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone. His eyes narrowed, and he scanned the crowd around you both. He was always on high alert, always protecting you.

As if on cue, your attention shifted to something else. You spotted it: the photo booth. 

Bright lights flashing in the window, cute little props hanging around. Without even asking, you grabbed his hand.

He let out a sigh, but let you drag him across the mall.

“Really? A photo booth?” he asked, though the annoyance in his voice was half-hearted. You looked up at him, with those stupid doe eyes.

“Please, Buck, pleeeease! You owe me after almost letting me faceplant!” you grinned as you tugged him along with you.

"I didn't almost let you faceplant," he grumbled, "I saved you."

"That’s the spirit!" you beamed.

Bucky grumbled a string of curses under his breath.

“You’re going in, grumpy!” you said with a grin, “There’s no way you’re getting out of this. It’s for us.”

Bucky sighed. “I’m too big for this. You know that, right?”

“Too big for fun?” you teased. “I don’t think so!”

There was no fighting it. 

Bucky wanted to put his foot down, but with how you smiled up at him, he could never refuse you. 

He ducked into the booth, his broad shoulders hunched, trying not to take up the entire space. There was barely enough room for both of you, so Bucky did the only reasonable thing to do: he picked you up effortlessly and plopped you onto his lap.

"Bucky!"

He pulled you in tighter. "You wanted the pictures, brat. You’re stuck with me now."

“Alright, let’s take some pictures,” you said, playing around with props and making silly faces until Bucky begrudgingly joined in, his grumpiness melting as he went along with it.

Bucky reached over with one massive hand and squished your cheeks together, a smirk on his face. "Like this, sunshine?"

“Bucky! Stop it!” you giggle under his gentle touch.

He chuckled, squeezing your cheeks once more before he put on enormous, goofy glasses and scowled for the next picture.

“There, happy now?” he grumbled, his tone completely at odds with the ridiculous glasses.

“Oh, totally!” you said with a giggle. “You look adorable.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, though you could see the corners of his mouth twitching. “Don’t go telling anyone that, okay?”

“Of course not!” you assured him with a grin. “I’m not that mean.”

"And now, a kiss on the cheek," he said with an air of mock seriousness, before planting a quick kiss on your cheek.

You felt your face flush. 

"Bucky!" you said, your voice suddenly quieter, though your smile betrayed how giddy you were.

He raised an eyebrow. “What? I’m a gentleman. Sometimes.”

Your face flushed a deeper shade of red.

The booth’s final picture snapped. Bucky leaned his cheek against your head and you both smiled.

He pressed a chaste kiss against your temple before he helped you out.

When the photos were printed, you couldn’t hide your grin as you handed one set to Bucky.

“Great,” he muttered. “This is gonna haunt me for the rest of my life, isn’t it?”

You practically beamed. “Yep! And I’m showing the team.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “You’re not.”

“I will!” you declared, undeterred.

Bucky tilted your chin to look at him with just the right amount of force. His thumb gently traced your skin, a subtle reminder of who was in control. “You won’t.” 

“Yes, I will,” you insisted, although your voice got softer.

“No, you won’t.” His thumb traces against your cheek, almost like he was grounding you, pulling you closer into submission. “Right, sweet girl?”

“I won’t,” You agreed and held up your pinky. “Pinky promise.”

“Good girl,” he praised, hooking his pinky around yours.

You remained quiet until a small smile creeped up on your face. “You’re totally going to keep the pictures forever and ever.”

He sighed again, looking down at you with both exasperation and fondness. “I’m never gonna hear the end of this, am I?”

“Not unless you really pout,” you teased, poking his side gently. “Which I’m kind of hoping you do.”

“Now I understand why the others like to pick on you,” Bucky muttered.

You pout playfully and he ruffles your hair gently.

You smiled, and when you turned around, you spotted the cotton candy machine. 

Without hesitation, you bolted toward it, yelling, "Cotton candy, Buck! Let’s get some!"

“I swear to God…” Bucky sighed, watching you go with a fond smile that he couldn’t hide. 

The only thing worse than being dragged to a photo booth was following you to a cotton candy machine, knowing you'd get even more hyper off the sugar.

Was he still going to buy it for you?

Yes.

Why?

Because, like always, he was helpless against his sunshine.

"Can’t take you anywhere," he grinned as he followed after you.

No matter how grumpy he tried to be, when it came to you, Bucky Barnes was completely powerless.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @sailorsenshiuranep @alexxavicry @ficcharsimp @winchestert101 @thatesqcrush @bamitzzsam @grubler @peaches1958 @helen-2003 @ickearmn @Kimmie113080 @Xgbtmdmx @buckysbunnie @Shower-me-with-roses @pigeonmama @civilbucky @piinksdoll @desimarie12 @sleepysongbirdsings

If you'd like to be added to my taglist or just ask me, and I'll update it!

Much love x

- Maeve

[hana-no-seiiki]

Sorry for the long hiatus. My meds for my bipolar disorder have made it very difficult to have inspiration/motivation for anything aside from normie activities.

Anyways I have a lot planned for this year! Hopefully you guys enjoy these works that have been in the backburner for a while while now. Love yall.

Without further ado, here’s a little drabble/some hcs as appetizers.

YANDERE BATFAM x HAREM! READER

tw/cw: DID coded shenanigans. Multiple Readers converge from my other works. Confusing fuckery. Yun writing without his meds. Featuring @sophiethewitch1 ‘s loser reader from What We Want. Mad Genius! Reader.

inspired by: The Herta (Honkai Star Rail) and a lil Iron Man.

Okay it but wouldn’t it be fucking hilarious if Reader gave the boys a harem of their own.

Like perhaps they’re just this immortal genius that creates puppets. Each with its unique personality and looks. But all of them share one thing, a love for their creator and the batfam. (And are all under your control…mostly)

Let’s start with your failures shall we? After all, the most precious thing to a genius like you, is your mistakes. However few or many there are.

You created Cat Villain! Reader as a test. No flashy powers beyond invisibility and teleportation. What you did give them however, was a whole load of sass and mystique. Something that drew in the Robins pretty well at first, but they soon lose interest in favor of … well

another work of yours was Alien! Reader. The goody two shoes with a dark side. (You couldn’t make them perfectly straight and narrow, that would have been far too boring). But Alien! Reader started dating Damian way too quickly. And everyone seemed so happy with the arrangement that you quickly ended it all. Swiftly killing your puppet in a fit of boredom. (Don’t worry, you kept some spare parts in order to rebuild them later on if such a whim caught your fancy)

Now, What We Want! Reader was special. It took a lot of time, effort, and whole butt load of money. Crossing dimensions was a lot more difficult than you thought it would be. But of course, in the end, your perfect self managed to pull through.

Replacing the original What We Want! Reader with a puppet that housed a soul from another world? Genius. Absolutely brilliant. You should reward yourself with how smart you are.

Unfortunately the boys got too excited and locked her up. Almost removing your access to one of your favorite experiments! How could they?

And so you send her back home. Safe and sound (and ready for part two!)

While looking through other dimensions, a certain manga/anime caught your eye. Makima! Reader was inspired from the character herself. And Bruce’s lack of participation and eagerness in some of your previous tests. And so you made his utter nightmare. One who killed when it was necessary and kill you did.

Unfortunately Makima! Reader almost made [Favorite DC Villain] pass away and you wouldn’t want that happening, don’t you?

In getting What We Want! Reader to your dimension you failed to account one of your stupid puppets getting into the collider by accident. And thus was What’s Up Danger? Reader was born.

You let it roam free for the most part, but for some reason time seemed to loop around them meeting the batboys for the first time and would never go beyond it. (Probably cause the author hasn’t updated in a dozen amber eras at this point)

Exasperated and in dire need of some fun in your life. You bring back all the readers one last time.

And oh, the chaos that ensued was one for the ages.

Finally, a success.

©️ h.n.s. - yun | 2025

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

Yandere Class 1-A X Reader — { PART 2 }: We’ve Got Company~

(Description: Titles are hard, okay? Please don’t shame me for how cheesy it is because I know it's corny LOL. But I make up for it with decent writing! I POPPED OFF with some of these parts.

We all know this by now, but it’s safe to say (Y/N) is too trusting of EVERYONE. The amount of people I keep making them blindly and wholly give their faith to is…concerning. I know you guys probably want them to fight back more, but it’s hard when I haven’t labeled them with a specified Quirk. I wanted to leave it up to you guys to give them the attributes they have in your minds without spoon-feeding you every single choice (Y/N) makes. Sooooo, it suffers a little bit with the repetitiveness of this constant back and forth getting pulled every which way. It’s also difficult when there are so many characters to cover.

I am not complaining about it though! I am extremely proud of this story and am very happy with the outcome. I just hope you guys love it as much as I do. Plusss, it’s kinda nice to imagine being a princess stolen away at every opportunity by handsome/gorgeous suitors teehee!)

Fanfiction Lingo

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

~

“Normal speech.”

‘Inner thoughts.’

~

Original Concept - [Mommabean’s OG Story] → Here

Part I - [My first addition] → Here

Part II → You’re here!

~

Reader Gender: Gender Neutral (They/Them)

Style of Story: Sequel Oneshot // This story is a continuation of Momma’s Yandere Class 1-A Purge short story. I have written a previous part to this, so please check it out to understand what is happening!; Yandere Purge! If you don’t know what that is, go take a look at @yanderemommabean’s original works of it on her page, all is explained there; Many of MHA’s adults are included here, but I don’t want to spoil who exactly is in the story, so that is all you get so far~!

Word Count: 24K

WARNING(s): Swearing; physical fighting and threats (threats aren’t made at (Y/N), nor are they hurt beyond bruising); there is a brief mention of rape and sexual assault—it is not gone into heavily or in detail, but you need to know it is there; mental and emotional manipulation to the reader; bending of MHA’s storyline and the events currently happening (mainly regarding the setting, timeline, and people’s aliveness LMAO) to fit (Y/N) into the story but bear with me; some unrealistic interactions are going to happen in this fic because to get everyone together in a setting like this is near impossible; All of Class 1-A’s students are aged up to third years & everyone is 18 or older // I AM WRITING THEM AS IF THEY ARE IN CLASS 3-A NOW FYI!

[PLEASE NOTE: I DO NOT SUPPORT YANDERE TENDENCIES IN REAL LIFE!!! Do not confuse my writing this subject as encouraging it, there is a difference between reading/writing yandere stories V.S real-life situations. Please, if someone in your life is behaving like a character(s) in this story (i.e. obsessive, possessive, controlling, abusive, psychotic, sociopathic, LIKE A WACKADOO, etc.) get immediate help! That behavior in the real world is not romantic, sweet, or NORMAL! Stay aware, stay safe.]

~

Unable to leave without one final gloat, Shinsou turns back to smirk at the students, “All of you were wrong earlier, by the way. It’s me, dumbasses.”

Suddenly, a cocky voice chuckles from behind the mind-controlling boy, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, kid~...”

As reluctant as Shinsou is to say this, a tiny shiver runs down his back. Coming from the busted-up entrance of the gymnasium, Aizawa’s voice rings out like a bell. Your current threat swivels around to face the intruder. Even though his recognizable voice is a dead giveaway, seeing him actually standing there in the rubble draws a sigh of relief out of you. You don’t know whether to cry, smile, or scream for his help; either way, it’s just a nice change of pace to see his usual disheveled appearance and relaxed stature. At least something has remained consistent on this hellish evening.

Though, something sensible clicks in your mind. Thinking back on all the strong-willed friends you lost in the fight against this disease, you realize there’s a strong chance that even your own teacher has fallen victim to its siren call. As much as you’d like to go running into his comforting embrace and wail about how horribly your classmates have been treating you the past few hours, you bite your tongue and stay complacent in Hitoshi’s arms. Not like you could voice many of your concerns with the makeshift gag still sat across your mouth.

“Damn,” Shinsou mutters to himself before perking up to meet his instructor's eye with a devious glint in his eye, “Mr. Aizawa. Good to see—,” Before the boy could finish his greeting, the stoic hero held up his hand, his palm facing Shinsou.

“Save the pleasantries. You’d think after all these years of one-on-one training you’d realize I can read you like an open book. Your expressions continue to give your intentions away too easily. So cut the crap.” Shinsou's false smile drops quicker than it appeared. Aizawa leisurely waltzes into the room, closing in on the both of you.

Aizawa continues his analysis with a sigh, “And I wouldn’t try that little gimmick with me. I’m not like my students over there,” he vaguely points behind the two of you to the group.

“I’m your mentor. All the tricks you have up your sleeve are hardly even interesting choices to me anymore. I should know, I taught them all to you, after all.” He chuckled to himself.

“Did you come here just to nag my ear off about how you’re so much better than me, or because you have something actually important to say? ‘Cause, if it's the former, I can’t stay and chat. I’ve got some pretty precious cargo in my hands at the moment.” Shinsou brags, hoisting you further up into his arms, forcing a garbled complaint from you.

“Watch your tone, brat.” Aizawa glares at the snarky comeback his student possessed. Hm. So, Hitoshi thinks he’s hot shit because he won against a handful of decently strong opponents? Well, that’s just fine. He’s used to putting cocky bastards in their place.

“I’ve come to offer you a deal of sorts. We can either speak about it rationally, or,” he shines a leering grin, “I can use my quirk on you, and you can say goodbye to the hold you have over your classmates right now. How do you think you’d fare against 19 pissed-off pro heroes?” This time, you can actually feel Shinsou shutter at the sinister tone your teacher leans into. His reaction makes sense. The idea of irrational, infected, superhuman, edgy teens hunting you down fighting isn’t a pleasant one. Not just one of them either, a whole damn fleet of them. You’d be shaking in your boots too.

“Since I’m nice, I’ll let you decide,” Aizawa has a bored look on his face again as he runs a hand through the inky mop of hair atop his head. A few seconds lurch by before Shinsou caves.

“Fine, old-timer. I’ll hear you out.” Shinsou reluctantly agrees. He knows he could take on a few of them at once in combat, but as soon as the heavy hitters join the fight—it’ll be over. He’d much rather join forces with his instructor than be betrayed by the greedy moochers residing in his class. Shinsou knows that if some of them had the chance, they’d steal you with no hesitation or regret. He’ll just have to sit and see what the idea Aizawa wants to propose is.

The two of them walk towards each other. A meeting held face-to-face in the middle of the gymnasium.

“I should honestly reprimand you guys for how shittily you’ve treated (L/N) this evening. It’s absurd how ragged you’ve been running them. Absolutely unacceptable. Maybe I should even expel the lot of you after the Purge ends.” Wait, Aizawa could see you too? What, is your peril being broadcasted on live television for the world to see or something?!

“Hey, don’t lump me with those barbarians,” Shinsou pulled back in a look of grievance, “I waited until everything was calm to strike. They were the ones who made (Y/N) run around like a headless chicken.” He tossed his head back to the hypnotized horde.

“Hm. We’ll discuss it as a class later.” Aizawa coughs into his fist.

“Fine. Now, what’s this deal you’ve thought up?” Shinsou prompts the conversation.

“Right. It’s about—,” Aizawa is interrupted by his cautious student.

“(Y/N). Am I right?” Shinsou jumps to the conclusion rather abruptly.

Aizawa glares, “Don’t interrupt someone while they’re talking, Shinsou. It’s rude.”

“But you did that to me not ev—,”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Aizawa purposefully cuts him off, “And yes. It’s about them.”

“Hmph,” Shinsou narrows his eyes at the mention of you, “what do you want with them?”

“Not quite the right question. Change that to more like what can we do for them,” Aizawa twists the words to better fit his narrative.

Intrigued, Hitoshi takes the bait, “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is I don’t want to outright take them from you,” he shifts his weight to the other foot, “I want to make a deal to share them with you.”

Shouta continues, “Aoyama and his group had a good idea teaming up with Izuku’s crew. Working together, especially when the stronger piers can aid the weaker links, is a much more productive way of going about things. There’s safety in numbers.” Your body freezes up at his words. You connect the dots that he heard, or possibly even saw that whole ordeal. How? Where was he viewing from? Did he watch on a security camera? It’s a likely theory, the school is littered with them. You thought Denki killed the power earlier with his quirk. Or, with a more chilling idea, was he actually there? Physically in the vicinity? How was he nearby, could hear and see the whole event, and you didn’t notice him? Why didn’t he help you? Or, at least, intervene? Your mind is muddled with questions, but the two press on with their conversation.

“Sharing, huh? Thought you liked working alone.” Shinsou prodded, skeptical of the plan.

“Some missions call for an extra set of hands.” Aizawa cooly replied.

“I’m not sure. Not too big on the idea of letting go of them.” Shinsou pulled your bundled-up form closer to his chest. It’s like he’s a little kid—red in the face because of frustration, fighting to keep his stuffie all to himself as an adult asks him to share it with the other kids.

“I’m not asking you to fully let go of them, kid. Just enough so I can take care of them too. They’re a bit of a handful, as I’m sure you’ve no doubt figured out by now,” you whip your head to scowl at him and heatedly shout muffled curses at him, “Heh. My bad, kitten, but it’s true. The trouble your presence kicks up is a lot to handle, even for a pro.” You feel your face heat up in embarrassment at his words. Not that it wasn’t obvious before, but it’s safe to say he is infected as well.

“Plus, what will you do when you can’t control the rest of the students? You and I both know that your quirk doesn’t last forever, and your control is slowly dwindling away, even as we speak. I could help you fend them off, if it comes to it.” Shouta observed. He has a natural way of being extremely persuasive, doesn’t he?

Shinsou isn’t exactly thrilled to give you up, he’d much rather stake his claim on you by himself. His company should be more than enough to fill your time! He doesn’t want time with you to be shared with others he doesn’t approve of. Though…Aizawa isn’t exactly untrustworthy. Hitoshi definitely trusts him more than someone as hazardous as Bakugo, or as miserable to be around as Monoma. He’s a great teacher, even though he’s kind of a hardass. Someone he looks up to. Maybe they could give it a shot? After all, if it doesn’t work out, there’s still plenty of Purge time left for him to find somewhere else to hide and drag you off to when Aizawa isn’t looking.

“Okay. We’ll give your idea a go.” Shinsou begrudgingly complied.

“Good choice, kid.” Aizawa’s lips twitch upward into a minuscule grin. Yet again, your own fate is taken away from you as the two of them close in, grasp hands, and shake to signify the agreement.

“Ooohhh~! What a touching truce, cuties~,” a sugary-sweet voice curls around the boys’ conversation like a hazy morning fog.

“Huh—!” Shinsou isn’t fast enough to react to the intruder as he feels all his senses numb. A dreadfully sweet smell, the same kind of sugary tang that was laced throughout the woman’s voice, invades his nose. It should be disgusting, it should make him sick to his stomach, but the candied scent is nothing short of divine. It’s like nothing he's ever smelled before. It honestly makes him want to inhale more. Which is an action he subconsciously commits, sealing his fate. Shinsou’s legs grow wobbly as he starts to lose feeling all over his body. As unpleasant as he wants it to feel, as he begs it to feel, all he can recognize is a cozy warmth clouding his better judgment. Through the mental and physical struggle, he remembers you’re still sitting prettily in his swiftly weakening arms. He panics, afraid he’s going to, or that he has already dropped you. He glances down.

Well…you used to be there. You’re not anymore.

Shinsou groans, crashing to his knees. He scans the surrounding floor, looking for any trace of you, but you’re nowhere to be found. Good news is he didn’t drop you like an idiot. Bad news is someone else has their disgusting hands all over you. That thought makes him want to pick off his own flesh cell by cell, but there’s nothing he can do except lay on the ground and reluctantly drift in and out of consciousness.

“Too bad you’re not as lovely as our sweetheart here. Otherwise, you’d be my plaything too~,” the woman giggles, “But, oh well. Pleasant dream, honey~,” she coos at the purple-haired boy. You’re beyond floored at how quickly Shinsou was subdued, considering the quick work he made of the other students. Curious as ever, you shot your head back and forth to identify who stole the show this time.

The owner of the saccharine voice turned out to be none other than Midnight, your art history and overly-sexual pro hero mentor. She giggles to herself, watching her prey twitch and squirm in retaliation against her quirk on the floor, “While struggling normally is my favorite part of the foreplay, I wouldn’t advise it this time, dear~. Somnambulist isn’t easy to win against. It’s a much more potent sleep agent than your little quirk could ever dream of being.”

“Love that energy, Midnight! Smooth work,” a boisterous voice slices through your eardrums. You cringe at the volume, recognizing that borderline shriek. The person who is now capturing your body is Present Mic! What the hell are all three of your teachers doing here?! Shouldn’t they be like normal people and hide from the Purge?

As if reading your mind, Aizawa coughs to grab his coworkers’ attention, “That was completely unnecessary of you two. A little excessive too. I told you both I could handle the situation on my own. What’re you doing here?”

“Jeez! So cold!” Mic’s voice danced up and down in pitch, “Don’t be so frosty with us, Eraser! We just wanted to help!”

“Yes,” Midnight purred, the click click of her skyscraper-length stilettos stabbing the shellacked ground echoed across the rubble-covered floor, “you think us so shallow! You act as if we thought you couldn’t take care of this, dear. All we believed was it’s nice to have some support on the field, yes~?”

Aizawa, always as sharp as a knife, caught onto their plan effortlessly, “You two just couldn’t wait to get your grubby hands on them, could you?” The two opposing teachers choked on the air in their lungs as he saw through their lies. They fumbled the next few words that streamed out of their mouths, trying desperately through the stutters to justify their cause and deter his wit.

“I see. Hmm…whatever. Either way, you two never fail to overdo it,” Aizawa grumbles to himself, his chin sinking further into the comfort of his scarf, “I guess I’ll need some assistance dealing with the rest of my students over there. They won’t remain hypnotized for much longer now that Shinsou’s down—I’d rather not have to start a physical fight when there’s no need.”

“Oooh~,” Midnight purred, slinking over to the slowly reawakening crowd, “leave this to me, loves~!” The woman proceeded to unleash another plum of her drunkening quirk right as the class snapped out of their haze. You watched as they fell one by one to the floor in sudden exhaustion. Even the strong-willed one couldn’t escape the fate of her noxious gas, dropping limply to the floor in a dreamless slumber.

“Aww, they’re so sweet when they’re not getting in our way.” Mic snickered.

“Mic. Watch it,” Aizawa’s laid-back indifference swiftly shifted into his scary steely gaze as he warned his rambunctious coworker to stop his prattling.

“Whaaaat~??? You gotta admit, your hooligans sure made our night a lot harder!” Hizashi pouted in frustration.

‘When am I gonna catch a break from these…these…wait. What…the…,’ your thoughts slowly lose their path in your head, your mind-numbing and slipping away from coherent ideas. Your limbs feel like the thickest cement in the world when you try to move them. It’s too tough, too much work—and sleeping sounds like a fantastic idea. You’re just so tired. You start to heave for oxygen as if your lungs can never get enough air inside of them. You’re trying so hard to stay awake because you know in the back of your brain as delicious as stopping your fighting to rest sounds, something doesn’t feel right. You can’t remember why. Eventually, it becomes too difficult to keep your head up on your own, so you rest it against Mic’s open shoulder.

Hizashi immediately stops bickering against the stoic man in front of him as he feels your head plop onto his shoulder. Now that his attention is drawn back to you, he realizes you weren’t squirming around as much as he’d expected you to. He knows even past the lingering virus flooding his veins you wouldn’t give in to their advances so easily—as nice as that would have been—so he devotes all his attention to your slumped frame.

“Hey, you alright, doll?” he cranes his head down to catch your unfocused eyes. He jostles the shoulder you were resting on a bit, trying to reel you back from wherever your mind had floated off to, and that seemed to help a little. You tried to talk, but the gag prevented any words from coming out. Catching the barrier, he beckoned his partner in crime over with a quick tilt of his head and a quiet, “Help me get this thing off their mouth, Shouta.”

Without hesitation, your concerned homeroom teacher stepped over and peeled off the tape as gently as he could. Your mouth now freed, you let out an unconscious whine of relief, showing a small bit of happiness at having some bit of freedom back.

“What did you say, sweets?” Mic pressed yet again.

“Mmhn…I…uhm…mmm…nnh,” you mindlessly babbled in a soft voice.

“Come on, (Y/N). How do you feel right now?” Aizawa coaxed, his worry over you hiking higher at your unresponsiveness.

“Hmmm…just…tired…I think…mnnn,” Your eyes couldn’t stay open. They opted to flutter close every time no matter how much Mic shimmed around in an attempt to keep you conscious.

“Tired. Hizashi—Midnight’s quirk.” Aizawa said as he caught Hizashi’s fear-filled gaze. Both of their anxiety floated back down at the deduction. You must’ve breathed in too much of the secondhand smoke of the pro hero’s quirk. After all, it is quite potent against those who haven’t experienced it much before. Mic’s jostling changed into more of a rocking motion, trying to lull you further into that blissful rest.

“Ohhhh. Honeycakes! That’s okay—it’s perfectly fine if you need some rest. It’s been a tough day for our snuggle bunny,” he uttered, affectionately nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head.

“I heard you say my name, Eraser. What’s…oh!” Midnight stopped her sentence when her eyes fell on you. Then, all she could do was squeal at the sight of your sleepy state. She shoved Aizawa out of the way, bent down to your level, and squeezed herself as close to you as she could. She was giggling and chirping in delight at how “adorable” and “absolutely, irresistibly, undeniably cute” you were.

“Awwwwhn~~~!!!” her voice curled up in pitch, her fingers smoothing your loose hairs behind your ear and stroking down your warm cheek, “You are just the sweetest lil’ thing~!! Mommy’s precious angel~. What’s happened, Zashi?” Midnight tilted her gaze up to the blond for an explanation.

He grinned, “Just breathed too much of your quirk in, s’all.”

Midnight loftily snickered, “I see. Glad we were here to take care of them!” In all honesty, she’s beyond pleased that out of any one of her coworkers, her quirk affected you the most. In a way, she saw that as she had the most influence on you—or, in other words, the most power over you. In her eyes, she saw it as you giving yourself to her. Willingly and unafraid. Midnight’s heart is cartwheeling and running laps because she sees this as you caring about her so much that you’d serve her in such a magnificent way. She could eat you up and still be searching for seconds. You’re just perfect for her in every way, shape, and form. Aizawa’s nagging drags her out of her less than innocent desires over you filling her head.

“You need to be more careful about how much of your quirk you release in the future, Midnight.” Aizawa scolds, but scorn is practically nonexistent in his voice. It’s hard to be angry at the effects you’ve been put under when the outcome makes you look so helplessly cute. He’d never admit it, but he’s envious of her quirk, when it can turn you so easily into this version of yourself. The dilated, doe-eyed look your eyes hold as they drift up to see him makes the words die a little in his throat. Perhaps the lecture he was going to give her can wait a little.

“Ahh, I will, Eraserhead. But first, we should head off for that safe spot we arranged with the others.” Midnight commented towards the men while still keening over your dopey state.

“W…Wait,” you grumbled out in a meek voice, “noo…no. I d-don’t…,” your words fell off into babbling mumbles again. It was torture to try and evade her quirk’s effects like this, but you were steadfast in wanting to fight. To flee their unwanted embrace and be alone. But all they did was coo at your brave efforts. Oh, they knew just the perfect things to say to make you feel like you were a mere baby to them. How inadvertently insulting.

“Ssh shh shh~. Awh, I know, honey~. You just feel so tired~,” Midnight sang in a baby-talk tone of voice, brushing the top of your head with the palm of her hand. It was weird, you couldn’t figure out if she saw you as her child or prey. Maybe both. That scares you. Maybe you don’t want to find out any more.

“Don’t worry, sweetie! We’ve got you,” though less scary than the woman currently pinning you, Mic’s mischievous lilt of tone didn’t skate by your observative nature. His eyes seem…darker than when you’d looked at them during one of his happy-go-lucky lectures. Like he was hiding the truth of his words behind a cobweb-like veil of deceit. In fact, Mic was resembling a conniving spider—which made you the ditzy butterfly falling for his web of a trap.

Lethargic and thoroughly worn out from both her quirk and all the running you’ve done, you finally give up. Your body feels warm and tingly, making sleep all the easier to give in to. As darkness flooded your vision and your consciousness finally dove away, Aizawa’s voice filled your ears, “See you soon, (Y/N).”

~ Timeskip ~

Sick. That’s all you felt as the darkness that consumed your thoughts and vision slowly faded. Sick to your stomach. Aching all over. You felt like you were a flimsy shirt thrown into a clothes dryer and left to spin over and over again for three cycles too long.

You tilted your head a bit and promptly groaned at the wave of nausea that swamped your brain. Such a subtle movement caused your whole world to crash sideways into an abysmal painscape. It was like you were zipping around on the shittiest, most rickety roller coaster you’d ever rode. You wanted nothing more than to get off.

All this to say—ow. What the fuck, brain? Why do you hurt me so? That’s all your mind could conjure up at the moment—insults to your own organs—because it hurts too much to think rationally. That was one hell of a shitty rest. It has to be one of the top five worst naps you’ve ever taken. You’ll have to whine about it to Denki after class today, maybe you’ll get some sympathy candy for your brave efforts. Denki…why does it feel like something important happened that he was a part of? Hmm…you can’t put your finger on it right now. Everything’s too drowsy at the moment for logic to be considered. Your eyes are still begrudgingly shut as you twist your torso around, trying to get comfortable again.

That’s the moment you started to become more aware of the outside world around you. Noises of chatter hung in the air like a nagging mosquito. The more you paid attention to the continuous sounds, the more irritating they became. Who was talking so damn much, and why were they making it your problem? Couldn’t they see you were a sick person in need of some goddamn peace and quiet? But, that’s just Class 3-A life, you suppose. None of them ever know when to shut the fuck up. Well, this time, they’d learn! They’d get a piece of your “hungover” mind.

“Oi…,” you grunted out, a snarl vehemently leaking into your tone, “Can’t you guys pipe down?! I’m sorta in the middle of trying to sleep off a nasty headache.”

Maybe your words stung the culprits a bit too much as you heard the room slow to a deathlike silence. No blistering insults were flung back at you from the resident hellhound of Class 3-A Bakugou, no chortles from the jokesters of the bunch, no profuse apologies from the worrywarts—nothing. Just…silence. I mean, you guess that’s the result you wanted; but the tense atmosphere you created is rapidly making you regret your flippant decision.

The encroaching fear made your mind real back to the very moment you woke up. You began rational plotting out the questions that swarmed your mind like hornets to their nest. Wait, where were you again? What time is it? Why do you feel so ill? Why can’t your brain remember what the date is? Something really important was happening before you passed out related to time…passed out. Hold on—that’s right, you passed out!

What the fuck.

You passed out due to what—no…due to who?

Unease finally getting the better of you, you peeped up again, but presenting a much meeker tone this time, “U-Um…guys? Look, I’m…God, I’m sorry for lashing out. I just—my head hurts like hell, I’m sore all over my everywhere, and I don’t know what’s—haannhh…ow, ow, ouch.” As you spewed out the poorly constructed apology, you steadily sat up from whatever hard surface you’d been resting on. The stiff rest stop made you all that more unnerved; it sort of felt like you were on a metal autopsy table. Cold and jarring. As if you were a poor little frog being dissected for all the insatiably curious students to see. It made you want to be swallowed whole by the floor just to escape the distress of the situation. God damnit, why is it still so hard to open your eyes?! They felt like the heaviest slab of lead welded over your eyelids. You forced them open.

Overlooking the blurriness of your vision, you could immediately tell by the general shape of the people standing in front of you that you weren’t in the presence of your beloved classmates like you thought you were.

There were multiple people in the darkened room, all with varying heights and sizes. There weren’t twenty people like how many there are in your class; their numbers were closer to ten or so. Plus, the colors of their outfits didn’t match with your friends’ hero suits you’d come to be extremely familiar with. However, you did recognize the colors and remembered who they belonged to. The answer chilled you to the bone.

You didn’t speak up again in the presence of most, if not all of, your mentors. Yes, your mentors. The adults you interacted with practically every day; who taught you every tactic you knew, who helped you to become a capable hero in the pro world. In fact, you didn’t just not talk, you slumped into yourself a bit. You were afraid. Scratch that—you were beyond afraid. You’d seen, and fought, firsthand against their wrath before. You’ve watched their fights broadcasted on the television, through shaky personally caught videos on the Internet posted by petrified civilians. You’ve worked alongside a few of them through missions and treacherous situations. Hell, you actually battle against one for the right to earn your hero license! That was a tough day, but you’d made it by the skin of your teeth—more than likely only winning because of the unimaginably heavy weights that shackled them as handicaps. In short, they were barbaric beasts on the field. Now…you’re face-to-face with their rage.

Let’s all send a brief prayer for yourself. Maybe your death will be swift and your afterlife pleasant if you beg hard enough.

“My, my, my~,” a sultry voice sang in your right ear, making you shriek at the intrusion of your personal bubble, “such a naughty-mouthed little pet~! Tell me, what brute taught you to speak to your superiors in such a disrespectful way?” It was Midnight again. She was always one to breach your boundaries, whether you wanted her to or not.

She cupped your jaw with one of her hands, pinching and squeezing your gooey cheeks with the other for her pleasure, “Ooooh, precious! How’s your whittle head~?” she cooed while smushing. She wiped away a small bit of drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth, making you feel that much more like a ditzy baby. The way she played with you really did remind you of a child messing around with a delicious treat of springy mochi. Perhaps that was what you were to the ravenous woman, a delicacy to be devoured whole. You shivered in fear again.

Another person from across the room let out a high-pitched whistle, one that indicated astonishment or feeling impressed, “Wow! Brat’s got some spunk to ‘em! Good to know they haven’t switched up since we last spoke.” You weren’t as familiar with that voice as you were with your homeroom teachers, but it did strike a chord in your memory. Their youthful cheer didn’t resemble the dread-filled boredom Aizawa’s held, but they didn’t sound crude enough to be another student. Your vision clearing further was the only thing that gave their mystery identity away. It was Power Loader! It feels like forever since the two of you even acknowledged one another. Either way, he’s here now and fully decked out in his hero gear. The heavy equipment gave you a unique foreboding feeling that his abilities weren’t just all that meets the eye.

“Midnight, step aside, please.” A mellow voice takes control of the conversation. Midnight looks over her shoulder in disdain, as if the very notion of her being politely asked to leave your side is the most disrespectful thing someone could have asked her to do, but it seems that whoever popped the question meant real business. She stepped aside with a huff of frustration, mumbling under her breath curses, and something along the lines of ‘the gall’.

Once she moved, the requester hopped onto the table where you sat. They pushed into your personal space as well. You opted to lean back as much as the encroacher would allow you. From the astronaut-resembling helmet that donned their head and the puffy jacket they wore, you came to the obvious conclusion that this was 13, another member of the faculty here at UA.

She moved your head—left to right, up and down, and in a full circle. She checked all around the front of your body, and basically anywhere that you allowed her to get close to. 13 looked back deeply into your eyes before twisting back to face the bunch, “They don’t appear to be physically hurt on the outside. No scrapes, cuts, sprains, or anything broken. All that I could really deduct was their dilated pupils, meaning the effects of Somnambulist are still present,” 13 whirled forward to you, “Feeling at all hazy, woozy, or tired, (Y/N)?”

You simply stared back at the expressionless black mask 13 wore. You didn’t know what to say—half because you were uncomfortable at how close she was, and half because you were still bracing yourself to get your ass beat by the less merciful of the teachers. Your mind is drawing to blanks as you’re frozen with your jaw left hanging open.

“(Y/N)?” 13 snaps her fingers in front of your face, semi-dragging you out of your tizzy, “Hello? How are you feeling, dear?”

Ignoring the uncalled-for nickname, you wobbled your head about to snap out of whatever stupor you were stuck in, “Aaaah…um…good. I think. Still…vision’s still a bit blurry, head’s kinda fuzzy, but it’s okay. I can’t really feel my legs yet, I guess.” You tried kicking your feet back and forth, and while you could see them sway, you didn’t feel the sensation of your tendons pulling the limbs.

“Alright, that’s okay.” 13 dismounts the desk to face the crowd, “They’ll be fine. Just give their system time to recover from the grogginess. Next time, Midnight, go easier with how much of your toxins you release! They could’ve gotten severely hurt if they inhaled too much.” 13 scolds the tall woman.

Midnight scoffs, “Ugh! Why, I would never intentionally hurt my love bug like that! I swear, you act like I haven’t been controlling my quirk for my whole life!”

“Midnight, we have to set an example for our students, and lying isn’t how we do that. You should acknowledge you do go overboard sometimes,” craggy words tumbled through Midnight’s attempt to save her ass. Off to her side is the stony fortress of a hero, Cementoss, the one who spoke against her. While he is a man (or is he a rock? You’re not too sure even after all these years being a student under him) of few words, he does have the occasional snarky comeback in his vocabulary when he isn’t prattling off haikus and other unheard of analogies for life’s troubles you haven’t heard before. You’re pretty sure that half of what he says is made up on the spot, and you’ve occasionally tested how far you could push his knowledge before by asking him tough questions like “What is the meaning of life?” or “How did the universe come into being?”.

Before Midnight could pulverize the stone man into pebbles, the final guest you could see hanging in the back of the room piped up, “Can we please stop fumbling around like nimrods and get back to the matter at hand?” Inky, sludgy, and methodical in his dialect, it was no shock that its owner was the shadowy hero known to you as Ectoplasm. You’d interacted with him even less than the others, but you weren’t oblivious to his strength. You’d seen the fight between Tsu and Tokoyami against this predator, and you are happy to admit that he wasn’t your enemy on the field that day.

After briefly scanning the room once more, it seemed that everyone who was there had spoken up. Well, except for Aizawa and Present Mic, they seemed to be having a private conversation with themselves. Glances they threw in your direction, no matter how embarrassingly obvious Mic was being or the tenuousness of Aizawa’s, made it hard to ignore their scalding stares. It was borderline disturbing to see Mic so stationary. You wished he’d stop freaking you out and start yelling in your face like he always does. At least that would be one thing that hadn’t changed with the Purge.

“Precisely. Where were we? Please remind us, Ectoplasm.” Cementoss, equally over the distractions going on, encouraged the conversation forward.

“We were talking about our options. What to do for the rest of the Purge. How to proceed with the plan.” he spoke as if it was the most obvious thing that could have been explained. Plan? What plan was he talking about?

“‘Listen, we’ve gone ‘round and ‘round with these ideas for over an hour now,” HUH?!?! EXCUSE YOU, BUT WHAT DID HE SAY?! There was no time to stop their conversation to ask if Power Loader was or wasn’t exaggerating the time that had passed as he pushed on, “Why can’t we just go? I’m starting to get claustrophobic in this room.”

“What, and storm out here with no strategy? Yeah, that’s the best idea we’ve heard tonight.” Aizawa finally tossed his opinion into the ring and—surprise, surprise—it’s another gripe.

“We do have a plan—and a solid one at that! I just said it’s all we’ve been discussing ever since we stepped foot into this bloody room!” Power accused.

“No,” 13 cut in, “the plan you’re talking about is the one we’ve fine-tuned to get out of the school. What Eraser’s referring to is what we’re going to do once we leave the school grounds.” She stepped over to you while giving her speech and wipes your face down with a damp, cool towel. You’re not sure where she dispensed it from, but you supposed that since she specializes in search and rescue missions, she’s bound to have supplies of the like to help in stressful situations built into her hero suit.

“Easy! We run and gun our way out until we find a safe spot! A simply perfect plan. Okay? Let’s go.” Power said with finality.

“For being a seasoned pro, you’re much too antsy. You’re rushing this operation. If you keep sprinting through the important discussions, there will be major consequences.” Cementoss threatened. Power scoffed at the man’s slightly pretentious behavior.

“Think about it,” 13 tried to reason, “There are hundreds of pro heroes out there. Half infected, half not—give or take a handful. For however many pros around out there, there are at least six times as many civilians out there who are either running for their freedom or others who are trying to take that from their darlings. It is too risky to bring them out into a world like that.” Them? Hold on, do they mean you?! No way in hell are you being taken out into the shit storm that the big city has become! You’ve seen how the Purge demolishes the city in years prior. You saw what the news predicted it would be like tonight. Chaos. Pure chaos filled with dangerous, virus-infected people and villains simply trashing the place because they are able. You came into the school to seek shelter in one of the safe rooms to avoid the city, and they want to bring you into it? They can’t do this to you! Have they completely lost it?

Well, you knew that much, but still!

“He’s right, though,” Present Mic finally spoke up from his unusual voicelessness, “We can’t stay here all night waiting for some miracle to spring up. We’ve gotta take some action.” His shoulders buckled inward to show his agitation.

“And no one is saying that we will stay, Mic.” Cement’s sensible attitude never fails to shine through the stress of a tough discussion.

“But you are saying that. You know it…because you’re afraid. We all are afraid.” Mic grabbed everyone's attention because of how softly his words came out.

“I mean, we all know who exactly is out there,” Mic somberly stood and walked over to your side. You wanted to shimmy away from how close he got, but you chose to sit still to hear what else he had to say, “It’s not an if or maybe situation—he is looking for them. Maybe staying in the school has some perks. At least here he can’t get to them without breaking down a few thick walls.” At Mic’s dreadful outlook, everyone’s prepared responses fell into stifling silence. Who is he talking about? Why do you feel a shiver scaling up your spine at the faceless adversary? All this anticipation is going to make you go insane for real this time.

“It’s true. But UA isn’t safe either. We’re not alone and we aren’t the only ones in this building who’re interested in them. Those confounding kids of yours are still around, Aizawa.” Ectoplasm countered. Finally finding the place in the conversation where you can speak, you took your chance.

“Are you talking about the rest of my class?” you breathed out. The teachers spun their heads to give you their full attention. It creeped you out—their devotion to hearing you speak as if it was gospel—but you guess this virus is handy when you need to grab the attention of a bustling room.

“Glad you can still find your voice, sweets.” Mic praised you with a gentle pat on the top of your head. A total switch up from his gloomy personality just prior.

“And, yes, we are.” Ectoplasm sighed, sending one of his clones to your side. The clone didn’t do much except lay their hand on your head and brush your hair back, “They've proven to be quite…driven in their resolve to keep you by their sides.”

“Meaning they’re being a real pain in our—,” Mic’s interrupted by Aizawa’s scarf strangling the bottom half of his face to cease the loud man’s babbling.

“Hmmn, you guys take everything so personally,” Midnight bemoaned, propping her spike-heeled shoes against the side of one of the many desks around, “the children are just playing together, ‘is all! In fact, they’re making this night much more fun for me hehe~.” You cringed, and the only word running through your mind was ‘creepy.’

“Yes. Be kind, Mic. They haven’t been a bother for some time now.” Cementoss spoke with a grateful tone of voice.

“Well, it’s no wonder they haven’t been.” Power Loader huffed while resting his body back onto a nearby table.

“What do you mean?” you asked. You shifted up further to give the conversation your full attention. Once you were up, a slight tightness on your wrists captured your distracted brain. You glanced down and saw binding on your wrists. They were bound with tape. Tape…oh! That’s right! You were taped up by Sero before this shit show happened! You scanned your body up and down and didn’t see any of his tape around anything but your hands. It’s gone from your mouth too since you can speak to the teachers. You guess you’re thankful that they at least gave you the freedom to wiggle your legs around. Nonetheless, you’re still unforgivable-level mad at them for being dicks and holding you hostage.

“He means that ever since Shinsou caught them under his hypnosis, and Midnight leaked her Somnambulist to put them under, they’ve been sound asleep in the gymnasium.” Ectoplasm’s words curl up like a snake wrapping around its helpless prey. You feel less comforted by Ecto’s clone lovingly stroking your head now. That means no one else has been looking for you ever since Aizawa, Mic, and Midnight took you. Goody gumdrops.

“Yea’,” a new, twangy voice plucks into the conversation, “and it seems they ain’t rearin’ up again for some time.” It echoed from the entrance of the room a few feet ahead of your spot by the windows, so you craned your neck to the side to see past the teachers blocking the way.

His foreign accent was a big hint, but if there was any confusion as to who exactly was speaking, his masked appearance confirmed his identity. Snipe was perched against the door frame, slacked back against the wooden frame, and bending his knee to rest one of his spurred cowboy boots on the frame as well. Since when did he get there? You don’t recall seeing him when you scanned the room earlier. What was even more surprising was that on the other side of the doorframe rested Vlad King, Class 3-B’s homeroom teacher. You watched him side-eye his coworkers and, opposite to the rest, he stayed silent. Quiet, analytical. You haven’t interacted with him as much as you have with the others since he’s not one of your main teachers, but you’re certain from the way he and Aizawa have this sort of one-sided rivalry going on between them that he’s not one to be taken lightly.

“Hey, hey, hey,” barked Present Mic, “what are you two doing in here? You’re supposed to be guarding the door!”

“We decided to come in when we heard you lot yappin’. Wanted to see if our blossom was alright.” Okay, these corny nicknames were getting to be a little much—and it was becoming hard to not laugh at them when Snipe’s Western country-ass voice tried to say it so seriously.

“Yeah, right. You just wanted to see them.” Power Loader grumbled on his lonesome. Jealous much?

“Great, the peanut gallery’s all here.” you chuckled to yourself. Honestly, it was a smartass remark that was only meant for your ears to hear, but you should’ve known better than to mutter in the presence of such high-profile, analytical, pro heroes.

“Watch your tone, (L/N). I’ve taught you better than to speak to your superiors like that.” Aizawa’s steely gaze came to life, an intimidating red glow directly pointed your way. His mop of bushy, black hair billowing up to dangle in midair. It drifted about like a bed of kelp swaying with the brush of the ocean’s currents. All the built-up energy you didn’t realize was coursing through your veins came to a staggering halt, The strength permeating your limbs immediately drained. You’ve been under the influence of Aizawa’s quirk before when you were caught in the mix of his frustrations at the pranksters of your class, so this wasn’t an unexplored feeling, but it was still jarring to be stripped of all your powers you so flippantly take for granted.

As you looked around, you realized your statement was wrong—not all of the teachers were there. Not apologizing for telling the truth, you continued your comments as though Aizawa had never threatened you, “Ixnay that—not everyone's here. Where’s the rest of them?” Aizawa sighed and released you from the hold of his power when he realized you were simply ignoring his wrath. Honestly? He tips his hat to you for the response. Avoiding confrontation is sometimes the best course of action.

“Huh? Oh! Ha ha, you’re so clever! We brought it up briefly to the other staff members but—,” Power Loader had begun, but he was soon interrupted.

“They either had no interest or were busy with other plans for the Purge.” Vlad finally spoke up from his dark corner. Right, you remember why you don’t speak to him all that often. He scared the living shit out of you. At least you can have a somewhat decent conversation with Aizawa. With Vlad King, it’s always cold-shoulders and overdramatic frustration to simple questions you ask him. Those brief few words reeked such deadly poison, as if saying that anyone could ignore you was a crime against humanity. His facial expression showed his irritation, a frown stretching down his worn features and a frustrated crinkle cut between his eyebrows.

“Thanks. I was in the middle of getting to that.” Power snarked at the behemoth hero.

“We asked All Might if he wanted to come along with us,” 13 chirped, “but he declined as well. We don’t know exactly where he is, but he’s around.”

“Yeah! Not to mention how he responded! Something like,” Mic made his voice stretch lower into his register with a profound, macho gusto, and a large smile—an All Might smile—grew on his lips, ""HA HA! I appreciate the offer, friends, but I will be alright on my own! Good luck to you! I am off!”, and ran off to who knows where. Weird!”

“You guys never let me say the important parts of the stories.” Power scowled to himself.

“Gotcha,” you acknowledged the length of explanation, “So…what happens now?” you prodded.

“Now,” Midnight coos at a distance that is yet again too close for comfort, “we get to have fun with you~.”

“WHAT?! I’m not some class pet. Find a guinea pig somewhere else!” you wriggled away from the dastardly woman.

“Endearing how much control you think you have over the situation,” Aizawa smirked. You hated his comfort in the idea of a fictional complacency, one that was only caused by your own fear of speaking against them, “Stop playing naive, (L/N).”

In an effort to distract yourself from his stare, you pressed, “What’s the big plan after all this then?”

“After what, dearest?” Midnight mused. She reached a hand to your hair and softly massaged your shoulders. Quite done with the games they played, you shook her lingering touches off.

“After the Purge is over. What do you plan to do with me?” You wanted to add a sassy ‘obviously’ somewhere in that question, but you held your tongue for now. We’ll see how long that lasts.

“Sweetie~, we plan to have you as ours!” Midnight purred, circling around you like a beast going in for the kill. You rolled your eyes—how vexing can this woman be?

“Wow! That’s so funny, I forgot to laugh.” You threw out a half-assed pity laugh for the pro. You looked at the other pros for some kind of confirmation that Midnight was just being her usual lofty self, but when no comforting gaze reached your eyes, you felt your grin crumble.

“Eh…heh. Alright, that’s how we’re playing this. All the unfunny jokes aside—Hell freaking NO am I letting you lot take me anywhere. I’m not going willingly! I kick, I scream, and I do bite. I’m feral, bitc—,” You managed to squirm hard enough that you actually broke away from whoever was holding you the tightest in the ball of limbs. You slid off the glossy table and slunk back a few feet. It was just spacious enough for you to finally get a deep breath in from the overwhelming physical affection but you were nowhere near a safe distance from the psychos of UA.

“Willingly isn’t an issue. Plenty of us have quirks that can make you submit easily. Resistance will only produce failure for you. I don’t want to be forced to hurt your miniscule feelings.” Vlad gruffed out. He truly reminded you of an English bulldog—grumpy and hard-headed to the extreme.

“Oh, be sweeter, Vlad! Don’t scare the poor thing before we’ve had our fun.” 13 tried to reason with the ice-cold man.

“I am being sweet.” Vlad defended.

“No, you’re being a wet blanket,” Mic advised with a casual whistle.

“Shut up.” The white-haired man huffed out a pointed wind of air. With tusks as sharp as nails protruding out of his mouth, harsh huffs of breath that escaped his nose, and rising anger visibly seeping from his form, it made the image of him in your mind morph from cute, grumpy bulldog to a ravenous warthog.

“No, you shut up!” Power Loader lept on the chance to start bickering with Vlad King as he was still irritated at him for stealing his thunder.

“Girls, girls! You’re both pretty. Now, can we please get back to the much more pleasant person of interest?” Midnight tried to get the boys to back off, but her joke only made them that much more infuriated.

“Who’re you calling pretty?!” Vlad whipped his head over to the purple-haired sex fiend.

“Fix your words, Midnight, or I’ll give you something to be sorry for.” Vlad reared in, sneering at the woman something fierce.

“Here we go,” Aizawa muttered while shrinking further into his tall scarf tower.

“Nice one, Nemuri.” Hizashi bumped her with his elbow.

“I apologize…for you being a whiny BITCH!” You could practically see the overexaggerated sweat drop slip down the rest of the teachers’ heads as the beast of a man went off the rails from Midnight’s claim. He started stomping around, bellowing and nearly tossed a table across the room. You stood there and just…watched the man go from a professional, stoic, respectable instructor to a crybaby throwing the most dangerous tantrum known to mankind.

Guess he didn’t appreciate being called pretty.

Would he have preferred gorgeous?

That joke, while absolutely hilarious and should have been told for at least someone to hear its magnificence, you held in your throat so you didn’t get bitch slapped by a heavy office chair and receive a one-way ticket, all-expense-paid trip to God’s doorstep. You used the teacher’s being distracted with trying to calm the raging boarman down as an opportunity to scan for available exits. They were currently blocking the only door in or out, so that way out was an absolute no-go. You looked behind you and saw another door, but it didn’t look like it would provide a fruitful escape. By process of elimination, it would most likely be another closet that had no exit—and you DID NOT want to be stuck in one of those again. It was a miracle that the one earlier tonight had one! You do not want to try your luck again with much more threatening opponents in your way.

Inspecting further, there didn’t appear to be any other doors around to scamper out of. The last option you had was the large pane windows facing the outside, normally providing you with quite a beautiful bird’s eye view of the city. While it was an escape route, the task of escaping after exiting would be less than ideal. You were currently at least six storeys off of the ground, and you couldn’t guarantee that your quirk would save you from that high of a drop. Plus, the roof was still at least a few floors upwards, so you couldn’t hang out of the window and easily grab a railing. Not that you’d be sneaky enough to do that without alerting the bickering party of adults in front of you. You weren’t sure where else you could turn to avoid a serious temper tantrum.

Shatter.

A window to the side of where you were standing abruptly splintered away. A rush of the chilled night air flooded the room with one thorough sweep. The infiltration was not caused by the window simply breaking due to a strong gust of wind or a tree branch breaking the surface. No—it turned out to be a rather unwelcome intruder.

“Heyo~,” a certain bombshell blond’s lilting tone filled the thick tension in the boardroom. Your eyes zeroed in on the hero’s iconic ruby-red wings and instantly knew who it was. Hawks! You’d seen him in the field before from a distance, even captured his attention for long enough to have a brief conversation. A certain twist in your chest wrung out the breath filling your lungs when you thought about his suave nature that day.

You were there with your three main boys the day you’d met Hawks. You had just started working at Endeavor’s agency because of the generous offer provided to you by Todoroki during the Holiday party. It was certainly kind of him to extend his hand to you, and you couldn’t have been more grateful. You tackled him in a hug, and you watched obliviously how he nearly short-circuited at the affection. Though the day you all met up to head off, Bakugou had been acting a little salty around Shoto that afternoon after discovering that he had reached out to you too to join them, but you figured it was just usual Bakugou. Always waking up on the angry side of the bed. Izuku didn’t have the heart to tell you it’s because none of them wanted to make fools of themselves in front of you. Him especially. You are quite oblivious to the “more-than-just-friends” affection they had for you, but Deku was happy keeping it that way. After a bit, the four of you had settled in together and met Shoto’s father.

No thanks to Bakugou’s “stellar” introduction with the pro, Endeavor had put his foot down to deny taking on other interns, other than his own son. Thankfully, hero work is never finished, as a villain attacked then and there. All of you sprung into action despite Endeavor’s denial, and that is when you saw it. Or, rather, him. Red spears descending from the sky like Valkyries swooping in to protect the weak. You saw soon enough that these weren’t spears, they were feathers. The winged hero, Hawks, aided Endeavor in taking down the crazed terrorizer effortlessly. No hesitancy or mercy. Not so much as a bead of sweat lining his forehead either. After recuperating, you and Izuku practically tackled the man in an effort to meet him.

In the staggeringly casual meeting, he was pleased to say he already knew about you from your close friend, Tokoyami. However, he pretty much overlooked the green-haired puffball as he stuck you down with his unnerving amber pools. Hawks suavely shared that he was especially excited to meet you specifically. We’re these most likely only sugar-coated words to get your heart racing for the notorious playboy? Rationally, absolutely. His ego knew no bounds—he’d do anything to get the fans swooning for his flippant affections. Yet, you fell for it nonetheless. You hopelessly played the perfect giddy fan as you devoured all his teasing remarks, his infatuation with your quirk, and his cocky winks. A peck of his lips strategically gifted to the back of your hand was given to no doubt solidify a good relationship, but you nearly passed out. You gushed at the attention before, and you probably would again. You were no different from any faces in his crowd of fans that he interacted with. Or so you thought.

He soon took off after meeting with Bakugou and Shoto briefly. You’d geeked out about the interaction afterwards to the boys. An blatant envy to Hawks’ ease at impressing the masses, you as well now included, made them stumble at their advances. Izuku buried his own jealousy at the hero by directing your attention back to what the rest of the day had planned, and it distracted him from the negative feelings too, thankfully. Shoto had crossed his arms and stood as a silent watcher to walk alongside you. You did catch that he was standing rather close to you. Bakugou only spat insult after insult about the bird brain and the hot-headed waste of a father, hoping that tarnishing the memory of Hawks in your mind would get your mind off of that loser and onto him. He soon cooled off, and became a bodyguard beside you, like Shoto, mumbling to himself about how “pointless” it was to chat with the likes of that douche.

You knew that this meeting was no accident. Hopefully, the hero is here to save you from this awful nightmare. Though, he didn’t show up alone.

“Hawks,” Snipe grumbled a rugged greeting, quite obviously ticked off that the snarky bastard was ruining their sanctuary, “what’re you doin’ here?”

“Oh, not here for any particular reason. Flyin’ around, stopping to smell the roses…,” he lolled his head to look right at you, a devilish smirk lining his strikingly handsome face.

“Inspecting suspicious activity in the area.” A velvety smooth voice strikes up from behind you. You jump and whip your head to the side to see the culprit. Laying a gentle, yet comforting, grip on your shoulder was the famous Rabbit Hero: Mirko. You hadn’t really gotten a chance yet to interact with her in your journey as an aspiring hero. You’d heard about her competitive nature through various interviews you’d seen her in. You’d never felt more like prey than now, underneath her sight. Nonetheless, she was even more stunning than the media could convey. Her white locks draped along your shoulder as she peered down over you, the faint scent of lavender and earthy rubble wafting into your senses. Rumi’s piercing blood-tinged irises looked down upon you with a satisfactory expression. The lingering glint of fire locked within her gaze guided you to understand that whatever was driving her on this mission to confront your captors was far from fizzling out.

You’d heard some about personal interactions with her from Bakugou and Midoriya when they worked with her in the field. Deciphering Bakugou’s turn of phrase you’ve come to be fluent in after all these years, you gauged that she wasn’t too bad of a coworker. He’d said she was strong and that she had a kick that was no joke. When Bakugou remembered something about the people he fought alongside, you knew they left some impression on him—good or bad. He did make a point to reiterate that she only “gets in his way”, but he regards everyone that way, so it’s not a huge concern. Midoriya mostly info-dumped about her quirk and every fighting tactic he’d thought up to either aid her or counter her, but you didn’t mind his ramblings. Animal-based quirks like hers were always intriguing to learn about, and you’d appreciated him taking the time to tell you all the information he’d drug out of the woman. They both agreed (shockingly) they would like to work with her again.

You asked some of the girls of 3-A what they thought of Mirko before, and were surprised when they all nearly trampled you in their freak-out fangirling over the woman. Hagakure gushed over how much she loved what Mirko was doing for the community of women in the pro hero society. She adored how Mirko showed the world that women weren’t just damsels in distress; that the power and strength they hold mentally and physically is one to behold. Mina giddily hugged your arm as she declared the hero gave her confidence to not hide any of her more eccentric or “out-of-the-norm”, as she put it, features. Momo allowed herself to become vulnerable as she shared how Mirko taught her how if others don’t have confidence in your abilities you have to be your own advocate. Perfectionism was rampant in the poor girl, and she had such high expectations for herself. Seeing Momo learning to be more gentle with herself was comforting.

 Jiro and Uraraka explained all the ways she really was a fantastic figure for women, not simply aspiring heroes, to look up to. Strong, snarky, never afraid to throw a quick insult or punch to any ignorant when she needed to. Mirko was not known to be a passive presence; she made sure you know exactly what her opinion on any matter is when she gets in your face to tell you it. Since she wasn’t attached to an agency, most would think she’d be an outcast, but they’d be wrong. The girls told you how she was a lone wolf type, that she’d rather handle everything her own way. You admired her for that. Mirko’s belief of not fitting in with the crowd to instead be at the front lines of encouraging others to break the mold society says you should fit is one to be coveted.

“How’s it going, (Y/N)?” Mirko warmly asked you. You froze when you heard your name fall from her lips. How did she know you? You’d never met face-to-face before in your life! She’s even prettier than the photos snapped by her paparazzi could try to convey.

“Are these guys giving you any trouble~?” Hawks ruffled your hair as he sprouted up next to you like a daisy in a sunny meadow. You felt your face heat up at their actions, not getting used to the unwavering attention of such prestigious members of the Hero Agencies. Also, they’re two of the most gorgeous people in all of Japan. Even a sparse glance in someone’s direction would be enough to make anyone crumple to their knees—nevermind that they’re actually addressing you. You were having a hard time standing up on your own, knees wobbly and jittery, your eyes bouncing back and forth between the two in a fumbling manner. All you could think about was not making a total fool of yourself in front of your heroes. That’s about when you realized you hadn’t responded to them, leaving everyone listening with bated breath at your silence.

You wanted to slap yourself for the silly star-struck reaction, “Oh! I–um…,”

“They’re fine, thank you very much.” Surprisingly, Cementoss’ usual composed tone took a frozen turn. Guess he didn’t appreciate the two of them being here. In fact, it looked to be that most of the teachers in that room didn’t care much for the pros being present, all of them having a crinkled up forehead and scowles dotting their lips. That, or the frustration is from the broken window. Whoops.

“They’d feel more fine if you’d back off.” Vlad King, who had finally calmed down, cautioned the duo. Though he’d cooled off his ramage, you could see the irritated vein popping out underneath his skin, so another outburst was sure to loop back around. Whether it was expressed in a hunched posture, snippy tone, or the expression on their faces; the teachers all agreed on one thing. These two were trouble and had to be escorted away from their darling now.

“Yeesh! What a tough crowd, Mirko!” Hawks overdramatically threw the back of his hand over his forehead. He leaned his body backwards, grasping his other hand over his chest where his heart lies, and wailed out in a helpless maiden-like tone. Oh, yeah. You forgot that he’s such a drama queen. It’s silly, but also somewhat charming, in a way.

“Ha! Seems so, Hawks. Hey, chill out, we’re only here to play babysitter, old timer.” Mirko snickered to herself. Hawks joined in her light-hearted teasing with a bright chortle of his own. His laugh formed from a cluster of tiny clicks rattling through his teeth.

“...What was that, little lady?” Vlad’s temper was never one to back down as he cracked his knuckles. You felt Mirko’s hand clasp tighter around your shoulder at Vlad’s choice of words. You could tell she wanted to go off on him and rip him to shreds both verbally and physically, but held her tongue. Now was not the time to start a war.

“Eh, don’t take it so personally, King! She was just pointing out the obvious~,” Hawks egged the man on. Seems to be Hawks didn’t agree with the “no war” idea. You were beginning to get a bit nervous with the pros’ language. You didn’t want to be on the receiving end of the boar man’s tantrum, as previously mentioned, so why were they purposefully lighting his fuse?! At least move you out of the way first before digging their own grave! Though, you might get pushed into it with them when you can’t dodge their crossfire.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 13 sneered at the shade.

“You’re all…wise from all your experiences,” words posing as carefully chosen by Hawks no doubt fired up the two more.

“But (Y/N) needs protection from a fresher-faced cast. If you catch our drift~,” Mirko finished for her quick-witted partner.

“That is why you’re all gathered, right? For the Purge?” Hawks anything but innocently asked the group. Those who weren’t lost in their own rage showed a glimpse of hesitation in the answer. Hawks, willing to take a mile from the inch they gave him, ran with their slip-up.

“So, it is true. Judging by the switch in your behaviors, and from that out of the ordinary hue in your irises, seems to me like this lot caught the illness. Probably from those students bulldozing through the school. Can you believe it, Mirko?” Hawks swiftly closed the little distance between you two by slinging an arm over your shoulders.

“I can. They’ve been in such close proximity, it’s no wonder they caught it. I’m just disappointed. They’re supposed to protect people like our lovely (Y/N) here from these incidents. Instead, they’re fueling the catastrophe Hmm. You must’ve been so scared running away from these shit excuses for teachers.” Mirko brought her hand to your cheeks and pinched them together to make your lips pout outward.

“Hey! You know that’s bull—,” Power Loader barked as he leaned across a nearby table.

“What were you sickos planning to do with them, huh? Make them your slave after this night,” Hawks unapologetically interrupted the man, a silence washing over the room at the question being sprung, “Force them to be at your beck and call for everything? Splay their body out to satisfy your needs whenever and wherever you wanted? Disgusting.” Hawks veered his body in front of yours to shield it with one of his huge red wings. The more he talked about what your captors would do to you after the Purge, the more fear reeved up to course through your veins. While thinking about the possibilities of what would happen after the Purge if you were caught, Hawks’ accusations had crossed your mind, but you tried to ignore them earlier. They wouldn't…they’d respect your wishes even if you…belonged to them after all this! They—not your friends, nor your teachers—wouldn’t do those horrible things to you.

And yet, based on everything that’s happened thus far…

You’re not sure anymore.

You shrunk into Mirko’s side deeper, wishing to disappear from the conversation of your fate entirely. You felt her wrap an arm around your waist, and you felt safer with the basically strangers than you had all night long with your long-time partners. You wanted to cry from the relief of finally having somewhere safe to turn. You held the tears back to see where their confrontations would lead.

You felt Mirko lead your stiff body with fleeting strides. She was obviously trying to give you an out, so you went willingly. Just let them do as they please. Anything to get out of this suffocating mess. Hawks caught on to her.

“How dare you try to make those foolish claims against us,” Aizawa began, rage climbing high in his heart. He reached for his infamous scarf and pulled the end piece out, preparing for his attack. Screw playing nice. Screw relying on others. Fuck letting these idiots walk all over him. The nerve of this flashy waste of space dictating him to be the kind of monster that would take advantage of you. You’d been in his life for so long now that he hardly even tries to remember the times without you and his other students. So many tough challenges your class has faced, and yet, each hurdle was leapt over with no hesitation. Your entire class had brought him such joy over the years through the sorrow. His kids. However, you and Shinsou undoubtedly claimed the prize to share the number one spot on his favorites list. You’d been so attentive and caring over him when he’d left you to flounder for air. Late nights powering through boring essays, countless assignments completed only an hour before they were due, the weekend study sessions that almost always turned into game nights or gossiping over snacks that he’d seen you participate in with your other friends. You work so tirelessly to be a good student and attentive friend. That effort wasn’t unnoticed by his watchful eye.

There were many more less impactful moments shared that, dare he say, mean even more to him than the death-defying acts you’d survived together. Chats over the positive current life events with him drinking his standard cup of muddy brown coffee and you casually sipping your own beverage. Walks around campus with him, Midoriya, Tokoyami, Ojiro, and you. The sky gleaming a dazzling aqua blue with the sun sparkling overhead, but not in an overwhelming glare. Puffy clouds dancing in the air. A pleasant, flowery breeze twirling past you. One late night in the common room when he was making his last round to make sure everyone was securely in their dorms, he found you sitting on the couch brushing off the aggressive tears slipping down your cheeks.

When he’d made his presence known that night, you’d shot up like a fired bullet off the comfy sofa, scrubbing your puffy eyes in an attempt at covering up the residual cry session. You’d greeted him warmly with a laughing cough to hide your choked up throat, but he shut down your plan of concealment by hinting that he’d already seen your sadness flowing. That night he sat beside you and talked. Talked about what you were upset about, talked through your doubts, fears, and resentment over how you didn’t know what you were going to do now. Gave you a sorrow-filled look when you broke down into a fit of violent sobs again. He even sat with you in a lingering, but reassuring, silence after your sobs faded.

Only then did Aizawa release a sliver of his own castle walls to give you a hug holding as much love as he could spare from his withered and beaten heart. He told you many ways how your class had changed him to be a better man. How you inspired him to keep pushing himself to look ahead to what beauty the future could hold. Aizawa promised you that night that no one was going to abandon you like you’d feared. He promised to always be there for you whenever you needed his support. All he needed was for you to reach out, and he’d claw up any bit of strength he had left to come rescue you like the hero he promised Oboro and Hizashi he would become. Today was no different from back then.

These fakes weren’t going to tarnish his cherished memory of that night with you. That night, when you’d smiled back up at him with a wobbly grin and soggy eyes, now glistening with hope from his words, you should have known he wouldn’t let some nobodies crush your heart. These wretches didn’t stand a chance.

Power Loader cut Aizawa off to continue, “We would never. Stop trying to scare them like that!”

13, back to her reasonable self, even tried coaxing you, “(Y/N), they are lying. We would never betray you. Now, if you’d please come back here—,”

Feeling bolder with allies at your side, you forced your lips to move to stop their rambling lies, “Why should I believe a single word that comes out of any of your mouths?!” The room fell into stillness. It was as if the whole world had shut itself up to give you the stage to speak your mind.

Fed up and running off of pure adrenaline, you continued, “None of you have asked for my opinion on anything that has happened tonight. You don’t care what I have to say; all you give a shit about is doing whatever the fuck you want to me. You didn’t tell me what you were planning. You spied on me, you kidnapped me, and kept me stuck in this hell as your little hostage all night!

“Even if you did care about me, it was only to find out what you could gain from me for your selfish desires.” You downcasted your eyes at their knife-like glares.

Tears welled up and this time you couldn’t stop them from dragging down your tired face. You took a shaky breath to fill your deflated lungs, “I…I understand this virus has…changed you. I understand whatever you’re going through isn’t easy to fight against. But I don’t know. I don’t know what is happening to any of you. I don’t know what you’re thinking of doing. I just…can’t know. I’m too scared to even try to begin searching for the answer. My classmates have become the same as you—completely changed from who they are. They’ve been hunting me down. And now this thing has taken my teachers too?” Your lips wobbled at the realization of your loss.

“Ha…it’s like one sick joke the world is playing against me,” an exasperated laugh bled from your vocal chords, “I don’t know how it’s making you feel, but I know what it is making you do to me. You’re scaring me. I don’t feel safe. Around any of you. It isn’t crazy to consider you’d force me to do…other things too.”

You caught Aizawa’s eyes when you looked up. You turned away to save yourself from the heartbreak of his torn expression.

You curled into Hawks’ back, shrouding your emotional husk of a body in his fluffy feathers. You allowed the last few dying words left in your quaking heart to wheeze out, “Please. Leave me alone. Please.” Whether your teachers were mad at you for speaking against them, or if they wanted to get on their knees and beg for your forgiveness, you had no clue. All you know is that Hawks whips around, gathers your trembling form in his arms, and takes a couple of steps back from Mirko.

“Hang on tight.” He gently whispers to you. Unconsciously, you obeyed, and securely held onto the fizzy collar of his iconic jacket.

“We’ll be watching over them for the rest of the Purge.” That cold, nonchalant jab to the teachers was the last fleeting acknowledgment Mirko threw at them. Hawks spread his wings.

“Next time, before you go destroying the mental and emotional well-being of your students, get a grip on reality.” The finality of Hawks’ tone was filled with all the venom that he felt you lovingly held back. Your kindness is not what this lot deserves. With that, he flapped his humongous wings a few times to kickstart his ascension and took off with you pressed tightly against him. He soared up and out of the broken window, making sure to cover you properly so you didn’t get sliced or stabbed by any broken glass. You watched Mirko clamber out of the rickety window from over his shoulder, land on the edge of the concrete window sill, and use her legs to jump as high into the air as she could.

You watched in awe as she practically flew up several storeys, confidently grasp the edge of the railing atop the roof, and gently sling herself onto the roof without so much as a hiccup. Judging by the trajectory of where Hawks was flying, he too was aiming for the roof. Not like you cared at this point. As long as you were away from them, you’d be fine to go anywhere they took you.

“We at Air Hawks thank you for flying with us on this gorgeous evening, esteemed passenger. We have now reached our destination, the rooftop of the illustrious UA High. The weather outside is clear skies at a balmy 75°, so you may see a stunning view of the city tonight. Please take care and follow your charming, ever good-looking pilot as he will guide you towards the exit.” Hawks cracked a light joke to try and pull you out of the dark headspace you were currently dwelling inside. You spared him a half-hearted giggle for his attempt, allowing him to release the hold his hands had on the backs of your knees. You plopped your feet down softly to the ground just as Mirko had made it over.

“Here, let me get that for you.” Mirko held out her hands, her gaze trained on Sero’s tape that was still wound snugly around your wrists. Wow. You’d entirely forgotten they were still there. You lifted your wrists to the admirable woman and merely watched as she took your already reddening wrists into hers.

“Honestly. What barbarians. To leave you bound like this? Complete bullshit.” Mirko muttered insult after insult under her breath as she wasted no time in destroying the binding. She took your wrists up to her mouth and carefully chomped down using her steely, rabbit-esque front teeth on the strips to make a sizable cut through them. She gently pulled your wrists apart and the tape effortlessly split. Free, at last.

Using your fingers, you tore away the remaining severed strips with a wince, and threw them to the ground. Battered and bruised, you saw that your wrists were nearing raw from how much struggling against the tape’s adhesive you’d done. You gave a quick massage to stimulate blood flow back into your numbing fingertips.

“There! Feel any better?” Mirko prodded.

“Much. Thank you for getting me out of there. I seriously couldn’t have asked for a cooler getaway than two of the top pro heroes in Japan being my saviors.” you tossed a light joke in along with the gratitude. You yanked the two pros into your chest with a tight hug to further show your thanks, taking a deep breath against their chests. They were rigid at first, but they both allowed themselves. However, while being this close, they couldn’t help but notice the sweet smell drifting off of your clothing. There was little the pros could do to avoid the intoxicating aroma, but before they could delve further into what it was, they heard a tiny sniffle sound from your buried head.

With an alertness to you that he hadn’t felt before, Hawks pulled you away from his chest with a concerned look on his face. “Hey, what’s up, baby bird?” Hawks were much more determined than he had been all night to get you to open up about what was going on in your brain.

Not looking up from the ground to respond, he placed his fingertips underneath your chin and tilted your bent head up. You had a thread of silvery tears lining your lower lash line and a wobbly lip that made both Mirko and Hawks’ aggravation boil their blood.

“Hon, tell us what’s wrong.” Mirko commanded. She could barely contain the loathing that spiderwebbed throughout her heart. When she gets her hands on those measly heroes who mistreated you, she is going to make them wish they’d never bothered you with their worthless existence ever again. Lousy maggots. Just as Mirko’s mind was going to float off the deep end into disturbing plans of vile and ruthless methods of punishment, she caught herself.

Woah. That’s new. That was aggressive.

No, the aggressiveness was not new. She’d always had a bit of spark to her. Her wild thoughts are what made her such a great hero; that’s how Mirko became widely recognized for her prowess. It was who she was having the ruthless feelings against that surprised her. She’s worked with those pros, her coworkers and friends, for years. She barely knows you at all. Yet, she’s planning every possible way she could make the insolent, ignorant gang pay for their mistreatment.

Although, why should that fact matter? Why shouldn’t they pay? Sure, they’re her friends, but they abused an innocent. They forcefully used their quirks and position of power over you to make you suffer! It’s despicable. It’s dishonorable. They should face the punishment of the law. But…that isn’t enough. Her rationality slips, drifting further away the longer she feels you warm her. It fuels a fire within her, and that fire sets the marrow lining her bones a light. She doesn’t want to toss the aggressors off to the police like a spineless coward. You deserve better than that. You deserve more. You deserve justice. She is justice. Technically, she is the law. She will make them pay. Yes, that’s a wonderful idea!

God, she hasn’t felt this warmth in a long time. Too long. You’re wonderful.

Hawks isn’t faring any better. He’s wild-eyed—his mind deep sketching out the framework of delusional fantasies of him taking you on as his trainee, showing you all the tips and tricks he’s learned in the harsh world of hero life, and quite literally taking you under his wing. Maybe you two become more after you get closer. Keigo isn’t unfamiliar with the desire of wanting companionship in his life. He often finds himself daydreaming of a partner by his side, on and off the field of battle. Never a specific person, just a faceless, nameless being, fluttering through his desires. Smiling, laughing, enjoying each other's time together. Cute stuff. Hawks yearns for that small sliver of normalcy. Keigo wants to feel human—to feel whole again after everything he’s been stripped of in his miserable existence.

With you, even though your interactions have been brief and you’ve endured some light flirting of his that is barely considerably mentionable, you’ve brought him nothing but a comforting and loving feeling. He feels indebted to you for simply being you. Not lying to him, or trying to pretend to be someone you’re not. He’s constantly surrounded by deceptive and cruel human nature. He truly couldn’t tell you how many thousands of googly-eyed newbies have introduced themselves to him, praying for even a small flicker of his fame to rub off on them. Hoping to use him to spring them up into the actually noticeable charts. It’s so easy to read them too. They’re open, flimsy magazines. Bright, colorful, eye-catching, and full of back-stabbing and strategically fabricated lies. Spread wide and pleading for him to flip through their pages. They always hiss lies through their teeth, grinning and bearing the once-in-a-lifetime interaction. But no matter how much sucking up they commit to or how well they try to veil the truth of their intentions behind sugared words, he never fails to see through them.

Guess the training he went through as a child was good for something. If you don’t open up to people, you can never get hurt. Sure, that tactic has worked wonders…up until meeting you.

But he’s just so tired. He just wants to lower the railing and find something worth all the fight he puts up.

You might be his outlet.

“It’s…it’s just been a long night. I’m sorry—,” you tried to cover your face with your forearm, desperate to conceal the embarrassing honest showing on your face. Mirko gently removed your shield with a comforting smile.

“Oh no, hon, it’s fine—,”

“Never ever apologize for your feelings—,” both pros stumbled over each other’s words. When they realized they were getting anywhere by interrupting the other, they shared a look. After a small nod shared, they wrapped their arms around you again.

“You’re okay,” they both said at the same time, cradling you against them once again. You snuggled deeper, taking that chance to breathe deep and avoid spiraling into a panic attack.

While your arms were around the two, you accidentally brushed against Hawks’ wings. That is when you noticed his wings had puffed up in size, similar to how any bird does when they want to appear bigger to a threat they face. He had been very tense at the beginning of the hug, so maybe he was only nervous, so you chose to not question it. Plus, you’d just let a room full of deadly pro heroes! Yeah, it’s alright. However, the light thudding taps of Rumi’s foot against the concrete roof was something you couldn’t explain. Is it normal for hybrid rabbits to emulate this characteristic from their bunny counterparts? You’re not too sure.

You tried to pull away, but their tight grips didn’t let you. Oh. Well, maybe they’re both in desperate need of a hug. You’re very familiar with your classmates coming to you for hugs during their rougher days. They always said you had the best hugs, and you take great pride in that fact. Come to think of it, maybe you should ask them all about their mental health more often, just so no one spirals off the deep end and punches another classmate (thank you for that, Bakugo).

OH! Your friends! Maybe Hawks and Mirko can help them! Yes, that’s a great plan.

Peeling further back, you tilted your head up to look them in their eyes. You let out an airy chuckle, “As much as I enjoy the hug, I need some more of your help.”

They instantly lightened their steely grips. Not too much to let you slip away. Mirko held a smug look, as if knowing you’d come crawling back to her for her aid. SHe’s the only one who can provide for you properly, afterall. Don’t worry, let her handle everything for her darling. No task is too big for her. Hawks resembled that of a grinning puppy, excited and warm. Eager to perform any task for praise and treats. Yes! Anything you want, darling, they can provide! What do you need?

They didn’t supply you with a verbal answer, but the looks they carried spoke loud enough, so you continued, “My classmates. I don’t know what happened to my friends, but they’ve got the same thing the teachers do. I think everyone’s infected. I have to help them, but I don’t think I can do it alone.”

As soon as they heard you utter the word “friends”, their bliss was shot and struck the ground like a wounded songbird. Their brains shut off to stop the nonsense you were suggesting. Friends? You need people other than them?! And what’s worse, is you want them to help those idiots?! Last they checked, they were public enemy number one for making you run yourself ragged up and down those endless halls! No, that can’t be right. Those fools don’t deserve their help. Not for what they made you go through.

“No.” Rumi snapped with a frigid simper.

The rest of the sentence you were sputtering falters. You gaze up at the rabbit hero, “...What?”

With a second look-over, Mirko appears a lot scarier than she did only minutes beforehand. Have her eyes always been this clouded? Her unrelenting gaze exudes a darker inkling than when you’d faced her way. Rumi’s eyes stuck on you like gum bonded to the bottom of your shoe.

No. This wouldn’t happen again. They said they’d be better than this—better than them.

Hawks obnoxiously cleared his throat to brush the eerie vibe away from the floundering conversation, “Ehh…haha! What Rumi means is not right now. It’s too dangerous to go searching for your friends now. Finding help for them after the Purge settles down is the safest strategy.” Hawks smoothly saved Mirko’s ass with the perfect excuse, served up on a shining silver platter. You didn’t appreciate how obviously strained Hawks’ tone became at “friends”.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe. Preferably away from this shithole.” She mumbled the last portion, keeping the snark to her own chest, but her contempt for the institution was blatant. Mirko’s eyes were laced with flaming venom as she fleetingly paid attention to the concrete walls. A sneer broke out on her lips, as if just the idea of standing on top of the building was a sin itself.

“Ah… okay.” You tried to leave the hug again. They persisted.

“Mirko—,” Hawks’ voice twisted into a demanding tone. His blown out, puppy-like pupils cinched into vicious slits, staring down the woman.

“Hawks, I don’t want to hear it. Back off.” Mirko gnashed back at the blond. The two began an all out war against each other, both tugging against the other’s advances. A tug to the left, a drag to the right, both parties were unrelenting. Neither wanted to allow the victory of having you in their arms.

“You’re holding them too tightly!” Keigo whined.

“Well, you’re not holding them tight enough.” Mirko argued back. You’ve seen this before. It reminded you of two children fighting over who got to play with which toy, always bickering how the other was “doing it wrong”. It reminded you of Ochaco fighting the guys. It reminded you of Denki and Mina struggling over who got to hold you. Childish squabbles.

Liars, the lot of them. They didn’t want to help you. If they did before, not anymore. They’re infected, there’s no other answer for their behavior.

“Keigo, just stop it! You and I both know that you can’t protect them.” Mirko snarked. That caught the bird’s attention judging by the way his eyes dug into her, all emotion scrapped from his expression. A grim look stole the spot, one that told of violence and mayhem running rampant in behind his eyes. An expression usually reserved for the villains he so often made easy prey of. This is awful.

“And what is that supposed to mean, rabbit?” Hawks’ eyes looked wilder than before.

“I think you and I both know what I meant.” She snarked back, ruffling his feather figuratively and quite literally.

“Be honest with yourself. When was the last time you were able to save something that you actually cared about?” Mirko hatched a devilish plan. She took the chance of his loss of temper to clutch you against her. She took a couple spacious leaps back, creating a sizable distance between her friend turned enemy. Hawks plucked two giant feathers from his wingspan that sharped out into duo blades resembling two scimitars.

“I’m done being—,” just before Hawks could spiral off the deep end into whatever hell he had planned to put Mirko through, a disturbance crashed the party.

“Enough, you two.” A formidable voice shook from the shadows. Those few words are all it takes for the two beside you to back off from tearing out each other’s throats. Whoever it was had the ability to command total control of a room in an instant. You couldn’t see them, but you knew the voice came from the other side of the stairwell exit.

“Great,” Mirko scoffs, tilting her head to look the other way with a cross of her arms. You couldn’t tell if it was from irritation or the shame from being caught. Judging by her scowl, it’s probably the latter.

“Endeavor…how long have—,” Hawks sputtered out. You swivel your head to the gap at the birdman. No fucking way it’s the number one hero. He’s gotta be wrong. The number one pro hero showing up to participate in the Purge is unheard of. Guess you’d be wrong. Though, you suppose that even the number one gets a pass during today. It’s just jarring since All Might had not once in all his years of being the symbol of peace even be seen during the Purge hours. He probably just didn’t want to be caught up in a scandal with the news or social media if he were to ever be discovered converting to be a player of the Purge’s game.

Sure enough though, the one who rounds the corner is in fact Endeavor. He shut Hawks up with a simple raise of his palm and an unforgiving glare. The once cheery hawk tucks into himself and shields his frustration away from the number one.

The first thing that shows you the reality of the situation is his overwhelming stature. You severely underestimated the way this man takes up a room. Seeing him in TV interviews on the news and fighting against villains is one thing, but it is a completely different beast to be face-to-face with him stalking towards you. It made sense why he was deemed the top—with such a suffocating aura, it was hard to believe that any villain even tried to oppose the behemoth. You should know, you’ve met him before.

During your training with him alongside the boys, it had been quite the feat. You’d mostly done in-field training with the boys, but the one time you did have one-on-one training with the pro was unnerving, to say the least. Endeavor had watched your every move, his eyes never straying too far from where you’d displayed the extent of your Quirk’s usefulness. You knew you were as capable, even more so since you could control your emotions, as Bakugou, Midoriya, and Todoroki. Let’s face it, all three of them had a tendency to act out far too irrationally due to their urges and feelings, and they weren’t shy about expressing it. Although, your self control put you in a favorable light with Endeavor, so it wasn’t strange that he gave more of his attention to you.

Instead of bickering and combating everything the pro said with a harsh glower like Katsuki had, you listened intently and gave Endeavor undivided attention. Instead of ignoring the man who actively tried to give pointers and choosing to walk faster ahead of the group like Shoto had, you hung back and asked questions about what Shoto had done wrong in his approach and how to improve his strategy. You became more agile, better aware of your surroundings, and able to predict some of the moves villains would try to throw at you. You understood that the opportunity that Shoto had given to you all with training under his father for the work-study was not something to be taken lightly. Was the man a little too much of a hardass for your taste? Yes. But he was not a pushover. He had valuable lessons to teach you all from experiences he’s faced during his years in the field. If you wanted to actually place in the hero charts one day, you knew you’d have to get past your own opinions on the man and try to cooperate.

If someone asked your opinion of Endeavor, they’d understand he’s not your favorite hero to grace the charts. You’d believed him to be startlingly cold for the fiery nature of his quirk. It was easy to say you’d originally thought him to be nothing but an ass with too hot of a head on his shoulders, and while that was still the truth more often than not, he had his moments of clarity. The media did have a knack for stringing up the moments of his ill temper caught on film and making them the headline of every social media platform. What you had learned during your trainings held at the crack of dawn was that he was extremely precise. There was never a lack of communication or any doubt held within his words whenever he instructed you. Swing a right hook into the dummy’s torso. Sweep your leg to the left to knock the opponent over. He was straight to the point and earnest in the compliments regarding your physical improvements.

He’d even let you spar against him one day. Endeavor had taken the four of you and one of his many sidekicks, Burnin, to the rooftop during one of the few freetimes you’d actually had. He asked you to step across from him and get into your fighting position. He instructed no quirks be used, that it be purely a hand-to-hand combat session that balanced skill and strength together. With Burnin as the referee, you’d begun. He thankfully didn’t go easy on you as he views not giving his all into any task as a “halfass lazy excuse”, so you’d fight with your entire being against Endeavor. He educated the four of you through commentating on all of the things you did wrong; how you’d left yourself open to a couple of jabs from him, turned your back to him often enough that he’d seized an opportunity to lunge and knock you over, and such. Though you were outmatched in a number of categories, you soon understood why he was putting you to this impossible challenge. Enji wanted you to get creative with your tactics to take down your foe. You needed to outwit his strength.

With the newfound spark of inspiration, you struck. You made a move imitating that of one you’d tried against him earlier. A simple left hook. He knew he could easily deflect the punch, so he took the bait. You’d noticed before that he was much more sturdy with his right side, which left room for error on his left, so you took the chance. You sidestepped into his peripheral and closed in behind him. You kicked in the back of his right knee, forcing him to stumble to the ground. You knew you couldn’t tackle the man over from this position, nor could you keep him pinned there due to how much force you had to use to kick his knee alone, so you went with the quickest option. You needed to hit a weak point, but since his body was covered in mostly muscle, you only had a few options. Since kicking him in the groin seemed like too cruel for a simple sparring session, the spots above his neck would have to do. You jumped up onto his back, shimmied up enough to hang onto his shoulder, and threw a hard punch right into his throat.

You left him choking on his air and wheezing. He grasped at his neck, steadying himself on his other arm. Leaving him no hands to defend against your assault. You then shoved your hands into his hair, pulled on the strands tightly, and swung your body forward over the man’s shoulder. You let gravity handle the rest. Your body weight pulled his unstable torso forward and he hit the ground with a hefty SMACK! You bent your knees to land sturdily on the ground with minimal impact to your footing and let his face take the brunt of the fall. You then placed your knee hard on the middle of his shoulder blades to pin him and Burnin deemed the match completed with an impressed grin lilting on her face. Admittedly, for the rest of that day, you gloated the pride you felt at taking down the mountain of a man a little too obviously.

You knew that day he most likely wanted to make an example out of you when he presumed you wouldn’t win the fight, but you’d made sure he understood not to fuck around with you or your generosity again.

Zooming back to the present, you caught his eyes goring a hole right through you. Brilliant aqua blue irises stuck out like a sore thumb against his smoldering flames. No matter how much Shoto tried to deny the fact, he truly was Endeavor’s child. That striking blue color kept locked down within the Endeavor lineage and fiery red hair that draped over half of his head was unmistakable. Features that, however much wasted on the shitty attitude the man possessed, would make many and most fall head-over-heels for their stunning effect. Though, in your opinion, Shoto wore the beauty better.

Enji’s gaze was harsh towards you, but it was kind compared to the one he shot at Mirko’s arm wrapped around you. Perceptive, the woman held you closer, as if trying to defy his silent demand of releasing you. She was dead set on not going down without a fight. Before she could hope for one to begin, Hawks laid a hand on her shoulder as a soft hint to not involve you in Endeavor’s unrivaled wrath. Mirko knew he was right. Dammit it all. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she relented, back off of you. She left you to fend for yourself against the beast, cast you aside to the big bad wolf who wouldn’t spare you. It reminded you of the tale of Odysseus facing off with Polyphemus—only you were unarmed and lacking a foolproof plan of escape and this giant won’t allow arrogance to be his downfall yet again like the monster from the epic had.

Finally, Endeavor was right in front of you. If you had any bravery left from the night, it vanished wholly with him staring you down. Endeavor hardly even spared a tilt of his head to gaze down upon you, opting to stare through a half-lidded examination. The only indication that he was human and not some freaky Terminator cyborg from the future coming to hunt you down was the ever-present scowl he’s so fond of sharing.

Without ever taking his sight off of you, he glowered dryly to an unidentified listener, “Why are they scratched up?” You see now the question is not for you, rather it's dedicated to the duo in charge of you. You peered down to see what he was referring to, only now understanding what he meant from the bruises beginning to bloom along your wrists and the miniscule scratches littering your forearms and neckline. None of them were deep enough to lance more than a couple drops of blood, but they were still oozing fresh from the night’s escapades.

“That wasn’t from us! The students were dragging them back-and-forth between the halls before the teachers got a hold of them. You know how rough kids are with their toys.” Hawks quickly presented to the man. Smooth as ever. He strolled over to Endeavor to lean his elbow against the man’s bulky side, as if casually resting against an alleyway’s grimy brick wall. Although, with how stocky the pro was, you’re sure the feeling was probably akin. You watched Endeavor roll his eyes at the blond.

“I’m sure hurling them through a window had nothing to do with the scratches.” Endeavor’s sarcasm hung heavy in the air like too much icing on a dry piece of cake. It was obvious that his comedic side hadn’t been brushed up on in awhile. He took the chance to use an unexpected gentleness to grasp your forearm and hold up the damaged skin to the duo as all the evidence he needed. You, not taking too kindly to being an item for presentation, pulled your arm away from him and held it close. Endeavor shot you a look of disappointment, but held in the trembling Armageddon he had planned. Hawks gave a weak chuckle, no doubt scrounging for a way to veer the conversation off them scaling the side of a building with you.

Endeavor decided to spare you for now, choosing to cross his arms and acknowledge only Hawks, “What’s their status? Who in the school is infected? How many are after them?”

You were starting to get sick of him completely ignoring the fact that you had your own voice to speak for your own wellbeing. “You know I can speak for myself, right? Or have you forgotten that since we last hung out.” Hawks shot you a look that yelled “shut up” like a parent two seconds away from scolding their child who is screaming in public. You didn’t cower. You pressed on to challenge Endeavor’s authority.

“I’m aware. But I understand if I speak to you, you’ll probably end up whining like a child to me. Wasting my time.” Endeavor threw no more than a half-hearted stern crinkle of his brows, and you pretty much could no longer hold back the bubbling anger swelling up in your chest.

“Excuse me! It’s not ‘whining’, it’s called ‘being a sane person with reasonable concerns’. Also, no shit I would complain! Your little underlings were literally just fighting over who was going to kidnap me! That is a perfect reason to yell.” You waltzed your way in front of him to be a human barrier to get in the way of his sight being fixated on Hawks. You will make yourself heard against this bully. Screw it if he trained you, you don’t just ignore someone you’re actively talking about when they are right in front of you! It’s incredibly rude.

“I don’t have time for this,” Endeavor rubbed temples with one hand. You wanted to rip his head off and shout from the rooftops into his eardrums. Maybe that would get your point through his thick skull.

“Wow. First of all, fuck you,” That certainly caught his attention. His head snapped to look down at your defiance. His eyes bore that same look he’d struck Mirko’s arm with before. Boiling hysteria and bitterness. Even though you physically felt the warmth of his internal temperature rise, and you recognized the panic Hawks held in his gob-smacked expression, you couldn’t stop your big mouth from prattling on. Shoto probably would have laughed his ass off at your opposition to his father. That small support in the back of your mind made your confidence soar.

“Second of all, you can’t seriously think that I am going to be chill with anything you wei—,” you couldn’t finish your sentence before you were all of the sudden no longer touching the roof. The collar of your shirt had been snatched by Endeavor’s strong hand with no warning and hoisted high. You were now dangling limply a few feet off the ground. Keigo was squawking figuratively and literally, yanking on Endeavor’s arm to lower the leverage he held your body at. Rumi took a turn for the worst. Threats cranked out of her mouth as she reared up to kick him as hard as she could square in an area where the sun didn't shine. Maybe give him a taste of his own brutality. With an unyielding and unforgiving hold, he lifted you even higher with no strenuous effort. You yelped, swinging and writhing around to try escaping the brute strength of your foe. He brought you in close to look at you eye-to-eye, making sure your darting gaze has nowhere to turn to other than locking in to meet his own icy pair.

“You will not speak to me like that again. Your attitude might be cute to the rest of these weak links, but I won’t let it go without correction. You show me respect, or we will both have to go through a punishment for you that neither of us will enjoy. This is your first and final warning.” Every word was uttered with nothing but truth. No twist of a joke in his tone, no shift in expression, nothing. Only a foreboding aura and the gravely tone that demanded full cooperation.

Every snappy response died on your tongue. You wanted to fight back, to sass all of them more, to tell him exactly what you thought of him to his stupid, scary face—but nothing came. You felt tears line your waterline, and you couldn’t despise them more. Crying when faced with any kind of opposition…what kind of hero does that make you? You couldn’t explain why your mind drifted to Midoriya in this moment when all hope was lost.

You suppose it’s because you recall a day when the boy had tried to deny his waterworks and his friends carried his tears with grace and love. Deku had been sent off to his work-study with the man he’d called ‘Sir Nighteye’. You didn’t know much about the man, in all honesty, but you did know that one of the strongest students at UA had been training underneath him for some time. The sweet boy named Mirio who had come to meet your class and then single handedly swept you all in a twenty-to-one match. He was quite impressive, so the fact that Midoriya had been taken on to work alongside him was quite the honor!

However, Midoriya came back rather…startled, to say the least. He hardly participated in conversations held around him, didn’t speak up during the lectures, and could barely choke down the food placed in front of him either. His eyes were clouded, a scrunched up twist pulled on his eyebrows like he was stuck in a maze of his own thoughts. He looked far into the distance yet couldn’t process what was in front of him. It was scary. Where did the boy always eager to learn and help everyone drift off to? You wanted him back.

The situation came to a head one day at lunch when you were sitting across from the green-haired boy, Iida, and Shoto. You’d all tucked into your meals when you noticed Midoriya had no intention of even attempting to stomach the spread. Shoto had shockingly tried to crack a very dry joke, and that seemed to wake the distant boy. After brushing off all of your concerns for the nth time, Iida finally challenged Deku’s false reassurance. He’d offered an ear to listen to the boy’s troubles. A simple gesture, most would assume, but it hit the boy hard. Midoriya had tried to keep it in, but the boy just couldn’t hold back his emotions—a fact of which you admired to this day. He tried to claim that heroes don’t cry while he actively swiped away the drips trailing from his evergreen eyes, but you watched as Iida and Shoto shut down that statement quickly. It’s such an easy thing to say but a hard skill to execute. Of course heroes cry! Anyone who doesn’t when facing the nightmarish terrors that they do on a daily basis is lying or too stone cold to be considered human.

You watched as the boys bonded over the spilt emotions and a grin overtook your face the entire rest of the day. No one at that table knew what Deku was going through with poor Eri and the vile Overhaul situation. You hadn’t a clue the true reason Iida had extended his hand to the shaken boy that day. But it didn’t matter. Izuku let his tears and strength glow bright that day. Tears are a symbol of actually giving a shit in this world. Tears you shed are the wordless tale you share with the world. Speaking a thousand words in all different orders. A labyrinth that can be solved or failed, depending on how your own soul understands the riddle. You’re still scouring that maze to comprehend your own salty snivels.

“Understood?” The three heroes stilled, waiting for your response. Wordlessly, you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling, looking away from the man to not give the satisfaction of his actions actually scaring you, and nodded. He gave a satisfied grunt of contempt and lowered you back down to the cement. Hawks flitted over to your side, checking you over. Mirko didn’t exactly come running to you but she did make a point of standing in between Endeavor and you.

“You’ll see why we must do this soon, (Y/N). This life is just too risky for someone like you,” he looked like he wanted to say more to you, but held his tongue. You wished he’d just crawl back to whatever shithole he climbed out of and fester there for the atrocious attempt at playing the “comforting” father role.

He meant it, you know. Enji sees you choose to not look beyond his past. Much like his sons. Not that he can blame any of you. But, for some reason, the abandonment of trust hurt more from you than it did Shoto.

Enji could tell you how many sidekicks he’s experienced come and go throughout his career. Does he remember the plebeians' names? No. Why should he? They left, so that must mean they didn’t meet his standards. No big deal, another will take their place eventually. It’s not his job to care about them or to remember them. However, he does remember you quite well. Truthfully, much to your surprise, before even your work-study together.

The first time he’d even sparred you a passing glance was during the Sports Festival in your first year. Truthfully, he didn’t give a single damn about any students in the arena other than his son. Enji really only went to see if Shoto would finally stop this little rebellion of his by only using that wretched ice his doe-eyed wife blessed their son with. He wanted to see Shoto crack under the pressure and give in—finally admit that the fire portion of his power was the stronger, more reliable half. He managed in his obsession to give some half-assed attention to the other one-on-one duels.

One of the fights he watched over was you against the ditzy girl from the Support Department, Mei something. Initially, he was going to walk away at such an uninteresting sounding fight, but he chose to linger. He saw you willingly agree to Mei flaunting her inventions to prospective buyers by using you as the demonstration device. You’d effortlessly almost danced around her gadgets’ tactics; playing the part of challenging foe, but never let her pin you in a dicey position. You’d ended the fight by running her off the boundary line before time ran out, and both of you shared a hug as you parted ways—both satisfied with you being the victor moving forward in the chain of fights and her having interested eyes witnessing her skill. Normally, a blatant show of mutual benefit would have him running for the hills. That wasn’t a fight, neither of you put any effort into crushing your opponent to a pulp, which is what a real show of power was to his image of winning. Yet, he stayed. Not to watch anything that pink girl offered, only examining you bounce around with both your own strength and the might of your quirk. He wanted you to slip up. He wanted you to make a mistake so he could justify ditching the patetic battle, but you never did. You stayed light on your feet and still struck at your opponent a few times to show examples of the defense her “babies” could provide to heroes.

Intriguing, is all he thought. He then stood and sauntered off until the second round.

The second round he watched Shoto, not as easily as he had hoped, defeat Midoriya. While he was filled with both gratification at Shoto caving into his carnal fire and enragement at that Izuku pest for giving his son the unwavering support to defy his hold over his son, he hardly realized your next battle had begun. It was against the vine girl from the Class B—first losers, rather, to him—Ibara. Unlike Mei’s challenge, you basically wiped the floor with the poor girl. You shot around the court, darting like a bat through an inky full-mooned sky, making sure to not give Ibara a chance to get the one up on you. You hardly let her breathe during the showdown, striking at her again and again from all angles. She was safe nowhere, even when hidden behind the viney defensive walls sprouting from her hair. You’d ended it neat and clean with a swift shot of your quirk, landing her out of the arena. Triumphant, you’d moved up again, but you still remained humble while helping Ibara off of the ground with a bright smile and gifted her a sincere handshake. You’d no doubt made a spectacle of yourself to the crowd and everyone watching at home, the loud cheer of encouragement erupting across the venue said just as much. Enji even hashed out a couple of light claps for your impressive display.

Your last battle was the nail in the coffin for Endeavor. You were finally fighting against his son. Of course, he was obviously rooting for Shoto to crush you, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to a nail-biting fight. He got just that. You two dove for each other—ice flung around the court in jagged peaks with you racing around the boy and firing off precisely aimed jabs of your own quirk. Blustering rushes of glacial wind flushed across the landscape. You two waltzed around in a deadly dance of effort and skill. You’d make sure Shoto knew that you weren’t to be cast aside like overlooked trash. You had grit, a will to make a name for yourself in the competitive world of heroes. You managed to last around two minutes in the ring together, which is phenomenal, considering his other battles didn’t last more than a handful of seconds. In the end, Shoto had been the victor when he caught you off guard by using his ice on the floor. He swiftly created a haphazard ice rink and slid you out of bounds. You were too exhausted from abusing your quirk so much that afternoon against your other opponents that you couldn’t stop your body from spinning out. Enji didn’t miss the way Shoto practically dashed over to your side, helped you stand up, and offered his arm for you to hold as you shakily shuffled off the slick floor to a safer spot.

Though you lost, he hadn’t forgotten how you gave his son a run for his money. You were very capable. Which is why he didn’t hesitate allowing you to become a work-study of his under the guise of helping you and your other friends out. This plan he has is not only for the benefit of his own gains, but for Shoto’s as well. He knows his son cares for you, but he has to help you see that after all of the Purge nonsense. You two would be perfect together—the perfect marriage of quirks. Of course, he tells himself that he’s not in this for the sole reason of having another powerful quirk added to his ranks. But it certainly helps him like you more.

You kept your eyes lowered, the lingering sting of defeat simmering behind your eyes and in your heart. You wanted to have an unwavering confidence like some of your classmates. You would never say this to Bakugou, but you truly did admire his “never back down” style. You had seen countless times how he barked in the faces of higher-ups, challenging their morals, their reasons for becoming heroes, and plans. It was as if he never agreed with anything they presented. The blond always had to shove his opinion into every decision made. You wanted to stare Endeavor straight in the eye as you stomped on his foot and make him see what you really thought of all their bullshit. But you couldn’t. You didn’t have it in you to ignore his authority. Guess that’s why you’re still stuck up here on this stupid roof with people you don’t want to be around, huh?

Hawks brushed back your hair, trying to examine your face for distress or injury, but all he could see was you not meeting his gaze. He wants to tell you he knows firsthand how hard this decision is—hell, even he has doubts relying on Endeavor and Mirko. He wants to say he’d be able to make this escape on his own with you. Hide you away alone so no one else has any clue where you are. That sounds like paradise to him. Alas, with so many high profiles after you now, there isn’t a chance of him making it out with his head. If he broke the agreement he resentfully made with the two, then others would certainly turn against him.

Later. He’ll strike later. Don’t you see? That’s why he’s playing the perfect little stepping stool. No one deserves you but him—not even his idol. His hero. He’ll make sure you know that too by the end of this night. Only a little longer of bearing the pretending and game of dress up, then he’ll slip away with you in tow.

“Hawks.” You heard Endeavor call out for the winged man. Daddy’s calling.

Hawks tilted your chin up so you were forced to look into his amber glow, and offered a caring smile. He hoped you could see the promise behind his eyes. The disgust masked behind a beaming smile was perfected for meeting delusional strangers and other worthless heroes. He gave Endeavor that smile, but not to you. You hoped the scowl you shot ripped his lungs out and left them rotting in a pile of maggot-riddled filth. How dare he give you such a carefree look after telling you he was going to steal away your entire life.

After Hawks walked over to converse with Endeavor, Mirko closed in. Not much was said between you two, but she did bump her hip against yours to knock you out of your own head. You turned to give her an offensive side eye, but she only fronted an unbothered look. You went to ignore her again, turning to face towards the men. However, you didn’t get far as she decided to make her personal mission to annoy you. You felt a gentle poke into your side, ticklish and fleeting. You jumped, falling for the trap and glaring at her again. This time, she had a mild grin on her face. It was obvious your displeasure fueled her joy.

“You’re cute when you’re trying to look mad,” she snorted, leaning back on her heels. She couldn’t stop looking at you, and you saw her stare through your peripheral.

You scoffed, “Trying?” You faced forward to deny her yearning for your gaze.

“Of course. I’ve seen mad before, and you’re not at that level. You’re just…peeved. Disgruntled. Ew, no, that word is too ugly to describe you.” Mirko shook her head and stuck her tongue out at the mention of the synonym. You took a deep breath and settled in to focus on the men discussing back and forth.

She circled you like a shark lunging on for her prey, but you simply turned your head the opposite direction of where she was to avoid the confrontation.

“Where you going, grumpy~?” Mirko easily caught on to your aversion. You noticed how her grin truly did resemble something shark-like. The thought crossed your mind if she was really half-bunny, or actually some predator in disguise masking the innocence of a rabbit. A wolf in sheep’s clothing

“I’m actually very interested in that bird over there. Would you look at that, it’s pretty far away.” You apathetically mused at the distant dot in the sky. You brushed her prodding away to daze off into the horizon, Mirko’s words slowly being tossed into the heaping bin of memories you wouldn’t document in your brain. Gazing across the landscape of the dark treeline surrounding UA and the few standing buildings nearby, your eyes scanning the moonlit metal of the nearby rooftops. But something else glistening on the roof caught your eye too. Something moving.

You watched it shift and reflect the moon’s rays from across the neighboring rooftop. You squinted, trying to catch exactly what was skulking around in the dark, but it strayed just beyond your sight. Whatever it was, it wanted to stay hidden.

“Absolutely not.” Endeavor’s thunderous voice startled you from your scouting. Hawks turned his head to see if you had noticed the man’s tantrum—no shit you’d notice that barbaric yell from the brute—and, in seeing your alarm, sighed. He scooted closer to the mammoth of a man, turning his back to you. You strained your ears to hear the mumbling.

“You don’t have to tell me it’s not ideal—I know that—but what other choice do you think we have?” Was all you could hear before Hawks’ voice became too faint to make out comprehensible words.

You then remembered your little “friend” in the shadows. You shot your head back to its previous position to confront the adversary. Nothing. You searched and searched the silent building, but nothing. You wanted to tell yourself that it was just your mind playing tricks in the dark, but on tonight of all nights, you knew better than to downplay your concern.

Finally acknowledging Mirko, you questioned her, “Do you see anything on that roof over there?”

She gave you an unimpressed deadpan, “Seriously? You're trying the ‘oh my gosh, what’s that over there!’ trick?”

“Wha—no!” You looked offended, but you felt a cold sweat on the side of your forehead. Inside, you knew you’d probably have tried that trick sooner rather than later, and you've got to hand it to her. She knows you well.

Before you could try to explain your reasoning, a raging flame shot to strike Hawks and Endeavor.

Miraculously, Hawks’ reflexes were quick enough to shove Endeavor and himself out of the way of the surprise attack before someone was set ablaze. The smell of burning hair permeated the area although, and you looked over to catch a glimpse of a portion of Hawks’ right wing being singed into charred black wisps. Mirko reacted nearly faster than Hawks did, grabbing your waist and maneuvering you back from the fire. It was you and Mirko parted from Hawks and Endeavor far on the opposite side of the roof.

“What the hell?” Mirko grit her teeth at the attack. Psychos getting in the way of her time with you, what a joke. Such a waste of time. She just wants to run off and find somewhere to keep you for the rest of the Purge, yet these shitty obstacles just can’t seem to get enough of you. She was going to rip them limb from limb for taking her attention off of you.

You stood with no complaint in her arms, not minding her taking the lead of your protection. You still couldn’t see who caused the disruption, but you would soon wonder no longer.

“You’re slow today, Endeavor. What? Off your game or something?” A seedy voice echoed across the way. Male, deep, commanding. You watched as the foe came to stand at the edge of the railing. Your eyes dilated at the sight. Your breath caught in your throat. You’d only cared to remember this man as the one who, with the rest of his party, ruined your training camp over the summer and kidnapped your classmate, Bakugou.

You’re shot into the past as you recount that horrible night. It had been such a great start to the day. You’d been working hard with all of your friends, aiming to better improve the longevity and resilience of all your quirks. You’d nearly tuckered yourselves out when the hero Pixie-Bob said you all had one more challenge to face before bed. The Test of Courage. It began as traditionally as any silly game teenagers played in the dark did. Then it all came crashing down at the faint, then quickly overwhelming, scent of smoke. You remember being there in that midnight-black forest, you remembered how excited you’d been at the started of that stupid game you’d agreed to play, you remember the fire that infested the trees and burnt the pretty flowers and bushes to wisps of charcoal ash, you remembered the terror and fear of being lost in said woods before Deku found you wandering alone. You remember locking eyes with the man who stoked the fires. A spearing turquoise. You’d seen a blue so vibrant like that only once before. You’d found that hypnotic color in Shoto’s left eye. Though, Shoto was a much kinder soul than the monster these captivating eyes were attached to.

In the present, you’re wrung back into that same terror as you watched his black leather trench coat gently sway in the breeze, a glinting bicep catching your eye. The metal cuffs shone from the full light of the moon along with the many staples running up and down the sleeves. He was too far away to discern an exact facial expression, but you could blatantly see the large patch of marred, burned flesh dominating the lower half of his face. The leathery substance was roughly connected to what remained of his skin untouched by flame, stitched up with bloody staples. The way it was sutured made his face forever appear as if strung upwards to mimic a sickening Cheshire grin. You wanted to say he was only generally looking around the roof, but you knew better. The villain was practically drilling daggers into you with how much he was staring. No, you couldn’t just say he was any old random villain; you knew his name. Dabi.

More bodies moved out from behind him to occupy the opposing roof. All you heard from them was laughter and unflattering comments nagged at the pro heroes.

“Wow, they’re even cuter this close~! Much better than in the crappy photos you guys took, Shiggy~,” A much higher pitched voice exhaled in an almost loving sigh. Their blonde hair was cinched up in two tangled space buns, but the mess was an intentional look. The loose strands were slicked into spikes. Cutesy and feminine, a happy aura surrounded her, but you knew better. She draped herself over the railing as if in her own ditzy world. You would have believed it was a fainting couch with how dramatically she had laid over the scenery. Much like Dabi, the girl couldn’t take her gaze off of you, but she made her presence known.

“Hiiii, (N/N)~~! Are the big, scary pro heroes getting in the way again? Don’t worry, cutie! I’ll take care of ‘em, hehe~!” Himiko Toga, you believe that’s what Aizawa said her name was, called out to you like she was the Romeo to your Juilet. You’re sure she believed that too. You’d heard Ochaco talk about her to you guys after the training camp. She told you about how the girl tackled Tsuyu and used these specialized needles to draw out blood from her victims. Uraraka experienced the threat head on as the girl had jammed one of her needles straight into her thigh with little apprehension.

Uraraka told you how obsessed the girl was with blood, a crazed look in her eye when the red substance came about. She said she loved her, loved her so much that she wanted to turn into her! Deku even chimed in and said the girl shouted to him delusional fantasies of wanting him to be her boyfriend. At the time, all you could do was shiver and brush off the fear the conversation brought by claiming she was “just another crazed lunatic”. Well, now that the girl is staring you down with her own redden irises, you felt your tongue shrivel up in your throat.

“Bloodied and carved up is the only way any of these nobody pro heroes could ever look cute. Though, the one daring to hold onto my darling definitely won’t be leaving here alive.” She sneered, completely flipping her personality into one of seething hate and disgust when she gazed upon Mirko. Toga’s rage could be felt from a mile away, and you felt Mirko hold onto you tighter.

“Toga, knock it off,” the green lizard man with the draping red scarf hollered at her, “we’ve got a job to do.” Though it was hard to see, you noticed the way his eyes would drift to you and quickly look away. Like he was nervous. Shy? The large clump of weapons taped and glued together as his arsenal seemed deadly but ineffective all in one. However, he moved rather quickly on his feet despite the added weight.

“Wow, such a beauty! Ugh, what an attention-seeker!” The same voice shouted two opposing sentences from across the way. You looked over and saw a man wearing a black and gray spandex suit, clutching the railing while waving his arm around. After yelling, it looked like one of his arms had a mind of its own as it grabbed his neck. It appeared to be he was trying to strangle himself with one hand, while the other hand sprung into action to stop the strangling. It was an odd battle of each arm trying to wrestle each other, as his head kept whipping back and forth shouting insults at…himself? You’re not entirely sure what’s going on there, but you hope he won’t start to try injuring himself with weapons next.

“Hmm, I agree with your first sentence, Twice. Do try to not scare our guest away so soon.” A regal tone stood out through the other members’ silliness. You wonder how much backup did these guys bring as a tall figure in a creamsicle colored jacket walked to the edge of the railing. His height was enhanced with a dark brown top hat he donned and the fancy cane held at his side. The most notable feature of his was the mask he hid behind. Marble man. You couldn’t remember his name, but you certainly remembered the way he trapped Tokoyami and Bakugou when he tried to run away with them in his grasp. You felt bubbling heat rise in your chest. Betrayal and resentment all wrapped into one swirl of hurt leaving a suffocating dead weight on your chest.

“Dabi, keep your shit under control or go back to the base. Get your asses moving. We’re here to take and leave, so don’t fuck this up for me.” An unseen voice was heard from further back on the roof. However, whoever it was got the lot of them hurrying off. Groaned complaints and witty remarks were heard, mostly from the black-haired male, but they soon fizzled out. You kept looking for where they were going, but soon you couldn’t see anyone anymore. It was silent yet again.

“Sorry, darling, but we don’t have time to stay and find out what happens next.” That is all Mirko said to you before she bent down to pull you up into her arms. Though, she didn’t move that far.

“MIRKO, BEHIND!” You heard Endeavor yell out to the woman in concern. You heard it before you saw it. A goopy, unnatural, burbling sound came from behind your form. You didn’t have a chance to turn around before a platform leather boot kicked Mirko’s crouched body away with little effort. She skidded across the cement, nearly all the way back to where Hawks and Endeavor were standing. You wanted to call out for her, ask if she was okay. As much as you’d felt unapologetic rage for how they’d decided to take your life away from you, you still cared about them. You probably gave them too much of your heart, but they’re still your mentors. The people you've looked up to for years in your training to become a hero. Right now, you didn’t want to be alone, as much as you’d begged for it in your mind tonight. Not with the threat of the League of Villains being what you’d have to face on your own.

You heard a sinister giggle from over your shoulder, and felt a calloused hand grasp your shoulder. Without warning, the memories you’d vaulted away with lock and key of the horrible training camp incident came flooding back with greater force than before.

That night, Izuku had found you. Tears dripped down your face as you hacked up a lung from the smoke in the air. If he’d found you any later, you’d probably have been passed out from the lack of oxygen. You ran alongside him, trying to find your way back to the rest of the class, toward any sign of a familiar face. After fleeing, you’d soon found the little boy who originally came with the Wild Wild Pussycats, Kota, with a villain in tow. Deku fought against the mammoth of a man who went by Muscular while you protected Kota from the falling rubble and terrain. After nearly getting thrown a million miles away, Izuku finally got the upperhand on the man, and knocked out the behemoth villain. You fled into the forest again, and after dropping Kota off with Mr. Aizawa and fending off Spinner to save Mandalay, you soon find Shoji and Tokoyami. However, Tokoyami could have been in better shape, as he was now overtaken by Dark Shadow’s power. Shoji explained that he and Tokoyami were attacked by a villain named Moonfish, which resulted in Tokoyami trying to use Dark Shadow to protect them, but Dark Shadow’s desire to take the reins was too great. Dark Shadow was destroying the forest in their rage, but Izuku was quick on his feet to think of using Dark Shadow to your advantage to help protect Bakugou from the villains as well.

You three lead Dark Shadow through the woods, and end up running into Bakugou and Todoroki who are facing off against the villain who tried to attack Shoji and Tokoyami before. Dark Shadow descended and made easy work of clobbering Moonfish, and the boys used their fiery quirks to release Tokoyami from Dark Shadow’s control. All of you hurried off in the direction of the facility, running into Tsuyu and Ochaco who’d been fighting off Himiko before she fled, and your large group prepared to get back safely as “Bakugou Protection Squad”. You didn’t get far as you finally noticed that Bakugou and Tokoyami were missing. The marble guy revealed himself and the League’s plan to take the boys hostage. He flew off, but the girls helped you, Shoto, Shoji, and Izuku fly to catch up to the villain.

You tackled Compress out of the sky, and fended off Twice alongside Shoto when the League fought against you. As you tried to run off as Shoji had yelled for you and Shoto to do, the warp user, Kurogiri, had stopped your escape. When Compress had shown the marbles of your friends being trapped, you saw red. You couldn’t let them be taken, you just couldn’t. It was the miracle that Aoyama’s precise shot of his Naval Laser to Compress’ face that gave you the chance you needed to save the boys.

Shoji had successfully nabbed Tokoyami’s marble, and now it was up to Shoto and you grab Bakugou’s. You were so close, just inches away, before he was ripped from you again. It was the scarred hands of the fire user that flooded your vision. You fell to the ground, empty-handed and desperately looking up at the man searching for any weakness in his grasp to steal the tiny blue-tinted glass ball from him. But it was too late.

It was an extra bit of torture—one that Dabi made sure you guys knew was on purpose—to release Bakugou from the marble so he could watch your failure. You saw the fear swimming in his red irises as he looked at you, the stiffness in his stance, the slight shake of his hands. He looked so…helpless. You’d never seen the boy in such a state of despair before. It was haunting. You stood on shaky fawn-like legs, ready to tear that villain apart with your bare hands, no Quirk needed. You wanted to make him pay for the suffering he put not only your class, but what he put everyone at the camp through tonight. But you were stopped with a gentle embrace.

Shoto had looped his arms around your midsection in a cage. You twisted back to yell at him to let you go, to let you save your friend, but his gaze gave his answer to your plea. He knew you couldn’t win. One eye filled with a harsh, cold steel of an unforgiving bind and the other swimming with a depth that rivaled even the ocean’s own fullness, you knew he wouldn’t let you go. You thrashed and screamed against Shoto, not believing you wouldn’t come out victorious in this suicide mission. You unconsciously looked at Bakugou for aid, and it was a cruel reminder that he could save you no more. Both of you being held against your will, both of you screaming for help—one screaming bloody murder, one silent as a moonless night. The savior trying to go where the victim was being taken, but the victim commanding them to stay behind.

You’ll never forget the emptiness after Bakugou was fully snatched through the portal. You’ll never forget collapsing to the dirt beside Deku, Shoto’s arm still chained tightly around your middle, and wailing your heart out.

You’ll never forgive the satisfied gleam in that evil man’s eye. Never.

Except it wasn’t Dabi’s hand this time. You looked at the pale flesh, graying and roughed from years of neglect and self hate. The fingernails were chipped and appeared to be chewed with anxiety-ridden coping. Beneath the nails looked like they’d been clawing at a cement wall, dried blood caked underneath the unmanicured bits. The twitching pinky finger dangling frivolously above the target of your shoulder made your blood run cold.

“Miss me?” Tomura Shigaraki mumbled into your ear with a snarl. You’re sure you were shaking, but you couldn’t feel anything other than the stuttery breaths you took in and out. You could only focus on the lone finger judging the worth of your entire life. One movement too erratic and you’re nothing more than a pile of ash sitting in his rotten hands. You saw Endeavor’s mouth moving, he was definitely addressing the villain, but neither of you were paying attention to the fuming man.

“Staying to chat would be fun, but I think I’ll let them do the talking for me. I would rather spend my breath talking to (Y/N) than you losers.” Shigaraki rolled his eyes. He guided you to step aside, and you reluctantly shifted. A sloshing sounded as Kurogiri’s portal grew to be much larger. Once the portal stretched high enough, a figure swished through. They shouldn’t be here. How can they get onto UA’s premises? Doesn’t this place have some kind of security measure to protect the kids, damnit?!

As if he could read your mind, he chuckled to himself, “So nice that UA’s defenses are down for the Purge. So much easier to ransack this place when I can toss a couple of these guys onto the front lawn. Makes this boss fight a clean sweep.” Out from the portal stepped a massive monster you’d come to know as one of Shigaraki’s playthings, a Nomu.

You’d seen a couple before, namely at the USJ when All Might defeated the beast nearly single-handedly and during the time you saved Bakugou from the League and All for One, but you had never been so close that you could reach out and touch it. As it lumbered past you, you could almost taste the horrifying aura it carried. The violence just itching to break out of its skin. Its body was barely keeping the violence it desires at bay. It was easy to tell how badly the creature wanted to claw the heroes to shreds, the short gasp-like breaths it took, and the stomach-turning visual of its exposed brain and nerve endings. Its unblinking eyes held no emotion. No malice, no joy. Nothing. You’d think it was an impressively realistic Halloween animatronic if it hadn’t just shambled past you.

Then, as if this situation couldn’t get any better, a second one appeared from beyond the portal. A carbon-copy of the first, just as horrifying, just as deadly. Then a third. Three of those monstrosities stood in front of you like an impenetrable wall. The barrier of such an evil force left you feeling light headed. This can’t be happening.

“Have fun, heroes! Don’t come looking for them, unless you’re looking to free up some space on the Hero Billboard Chart. Would be a shame if some of Japan’s finest didn’t make it through the Purge, huh?” Shigaraki called out to them with a scratchy cackle. You watched the three pros prep their Quirks and bodies for the fight to come, you then heard banging from the doors of the rooftop. The doors must have been locked as you heard a hell of a ruckus behind it. Though it was a multitude of voices, deep and high pitched, and lots of them. You wondered who it could be. Your teachers? Had they chased after the pros and were intent on winning you back? Or could it be…

Oh no.

Wait. They shouldn't come up here. Please. Not with these things here, not now. The Nomus had no remorse, no moral compass. They’d kill your classmates right where they stood.

“No…wait, my friends are still here. Please—,” this was the only sliver of argument that you posed against Shigaraki, with a shaking lip and a strip of silver tears lining your lower lash line. He revealed in your fear to oppose him.

“Really? Hmm. Perfect.” Shigaraki smiled a repulsive grin at you, his wrinkled red and slightly pink eyes filled with more bloodlust than you’ve known before. He began pulling you back by the shoulder, but you chose to fight. Yanking yourself forward before a different set of hands gripped your arms, your other shoulder, and your waist. You wrung your body left and right, and you felt closer to Bakugou than you ever have before. Trapped and alone, with no foreseeable aid.

Doors banged and the yelling grew louder.

Slimy drool dripped from the blood-thirst Nomus’ mouths onto the cement floor. Frothed mouths itching to latch onto body parts and tear them off.

Hawks, Mirko, and Endeavor had looks of pure panic as they could only watch you getting dragged away. Not because of the threat of the Nomus, but because they were losing you yet again.

Your screams for mercy were only acknowledged by a calloused grasp, minus the pinky, clamping over your mouth.

And just like that, you were gone.

~ To Be Continued… ~

Far away from the light of the outside world, a dark figure resided in the shadows. A large television took up nearly the entire landscape of their wall, illuminating their body with its harsh glow. A smirk lined their lips, entertained with the events unfolding on that fateful rooftop. Multiple cameras showed all angles of the fight, of their disobedience, of their foolishness.

Not you! Heavens no, not you! Never you. You were perfect, always. Always the perfect little damsel in distress. Always the most entertaining morsel. Delicate and bold at the same time. A real palette cleanser from all the other despicable acts they’ve seen before. They’ve had a lifetime and then some to experience the tiresome, dreadfully boring reality they’ve come to unwilling terms with. However, you certainly add a wonderful zing of sweetness and spice to the otherwise flavorless mush they’ve known life to taste like. They want more.

They watched the despair fill your mind, how distraught you became over the mess they’d created. They saw your beautiful eyes, so teary and wide. So much innocence and hope for this crumbling world held inside them.

They stood, brushing off the dust from their clothes, and walked towards the door that caged them inside. Oh, how wonderful it will be to meet you again. Properly, this time.

<3 — Tag List — <3

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[tinylilacbun]

Deadpool with a baby regressor that he met in Deadpool two after he was brought to the mansion. Regressor was saved by colossus and warhead from the people that experimented in Wade so originally colossus took care of her while little but never fully trusted him like she does with Deadpool.

l i t t l e s h a d o w ‎𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚

Wade has been at the mansion for a few days now, being a trainee for the X-Men has its perks but also means following those idiotic rules. It is what it is.

What he notices is that since his arrival he feels someone following around and watching him, getting a few glances at you before you disappear again.

One day his curiosity gets the best of him and he decides to ask Colossus about you, finding him eating cereal in the kitchen. "You know, either I'm starting to go insane or someone is following me." Wade starts instantly in a whisper, looking over his shoulder paranoid.

"Wade, it's too early for this-"

"No, I'm telling you- there!" Wade points at the doorway, a quiet giggle being heard before you bolt again.

"Oh. That's Y/n. We rescued her a few years ago from the lab you were at too. I'm warning you this once, watch yourself around her, she's a regressor." Colossus warns him, pointing a finger at him.

"Sorry, a what?"

"A regressor, it means she reverts to that mind of a child to deal with her trauma. She's one of the younger ones and regresses mostly to an toddler or baby headspace." He explains. "I promise you, if I hear one word from her that you made fun of her I'll personally-"

"Chill out, who am I to judge someone for the way they cope." Wade puts his hands up to calm him down. "What uh- what's the reason she does that? Hey, don't look at me like that I did listen this time but- y'know what I mean."

"She went exactly what you went through, but she was only 18 years old at that time."

Wade only nods, staying quiet for the first time in his life as he glances towards the doorway again.

Later that day he found himself walking around the mansion, accidentally breaking two or three things during his snooping when he passes a door that has colorful bold letters on it that spells your name.

He slowly pushes it open a bit, taking a peek inside and his eyes almost pop out of his head while taking in your room.

It is big, and looks like a daycare, with the walls painted a pastel pink and some cloud designs, a big rainbow carpet in the center, the canopy bed that could at least fit 5 people standing off to the side, and not to mention all different toys or activity possibilities.

You're currently laying on your stomach on the carpet as you color little doodles on a blank sheet with your crayons sprawled around you.

"Damn, it looks like a toy store threw up in here." He blurts out before he could stop himself.

You squeak in surprise, scrambling off the floor to climb onto your bed, hiding under the bedsheets.

Wade chuckles as he takes a few more steps into the room, his legs automatically taking him towards where you're hiding, the little giggles you let out not going unnoticed by him.

As he stands at the side of your bed he reaches out to pinch one of your toes that's peeking out from under the blanket, smiling when you quickly pull it into safety.

"Heard you're the baby of the X-Men." He says, refraining himself from laughing when you instantly push the blanket of you with an offended expression.

"You baby!" You stick your tongue out at him, crossing your arms.

"Oh, I can scream like one for sure." He huffs, smiling at the way you cover your mouth to stifle a laugh. "How old are you? I mean- like, right now in there." He asks, tapping your forehead.

You think for a moment, holding up one finger, shaking your head and changing it to two instead.

"Then you are a baby, a pretty cute one and with powers, that's kinda cool. Sweet yet deadly." He says and your face lights up at that.

Ever since that, Wade came to your room more often, finding the way you go through the world with such innocence despite what happened to you intriguing, and oddly comforting.

He likes the fact that he can rant whatever he wants while you just stare at him with big eyes, sucking up everything he says like a sponge, giggling sweetly every now and then or adding your adorable gibberish to which he absolutely agrees.

The others in the Mansion are shocked, to say the least, because usually you're in your room or don't have the courage to talk with anyone other besides Colossus, so the fact you're spending so much time with Wade of all people is something no one saw coming.

Colossus was wary at first, for obvious reasons, but he can see how much Wade changed you in the few weeks he's been here now, coming a little out of your shell and not hiding away as much as you used to, both of you quickly bonding over the fact you went to the same hellhole in the past.

Needless to say, you're not the X-Men's baby anymore, you're Deadpool's little peanut, and you're the happiest you've ever been since your rescue.

[burekforsatoru]

listen, LISTEN!

i'm so unwell.

my incredible friend @neetily made THIS absolutely gorgeous perfect art for a trade with me, and I cannot stop staring, I cannot believe such a wonderful, kind, and talented soul exists in this world and I need everyone to look at her art and appreciate it right now!

these losers are my stardew valley original character Sunny and her (soon to be) sweetheart Sebastian. I can't believe how incredible you did with the posing, love, you nailed everything so perfectly i'll be sobbing for the next year.

thank you for this, truly, thank you for doing this trade with me, i'm in awe. 🤍 everyone needs to go to her blog and look at the incredible art and writing she posts, she's truly so talented (and her sdv oc piper is an absolute dream)

here's the scene this is based on, it's not gonna be out anytime soon, but I couldn't resist:

things were slowly coming together between them. they had spent more and more time together this summer, hanging out in his room to escape the heat, playing solarion chronicles with sam, skipping stones on the lake, making way too many crepes at the farm house just because. sebastian had taught her to play pool, an activity that had taken longer than necessary since he just happened to like the way his hands fit on her hips when he was helping her angle herself against the pool table. hell, he had even spent the night that time they had filled her kitchen with crepes and all kinds of fillings. it had been way too hot to keep the stove on, so more and more clothes had come off, leaving sunny in a tasty little top and her shortest shorts. that amber hair of hers had been up in a poor excuse for a bun, so rushed that hair had spilled onto her face and his eyes simply could not have focused on the pan, instead counting sun freckles on her face.

you can read about sunny here 🖤

[c4hr4yz3e]

When in Doncaster: Chapter Two

George Clarke x fem!Reader

Did I continue this instead of doing my Psychology assessment worth 40% of my grade? Yes, I did.

Warnings: Language, my horrible writing, the usual

Word Count: 2.7k

Disclaimer: Do not use or claim my work without my permission. My work is my own. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents (beyond that of reasonability i.e. George, Chris' original video plot) are fictitious in nature, and any connection to any other works is purely coincidental.

Notes: I'd love to hear you guys' thoughts! This is my first fanfic ever, so I'd absolutely love to hear what you guys think.

Part One here

Enjoy :)

______________________________________________________________

The private room was no doubt going well.

Chris doubled over into Arthur Hill’s lap in a fit of giggles as Bach and ArthurTV performed one of the worst renditions of Timber on JustDance. The table was littered with empty beer and shot glasses, and half-eaten bowls of crisps. Needless to say, it was starting to feel like a signature Soccer Saturday evening.

“George, hold the phone straight! You’re making us look bad!” Arthur complained as he flailed his arms and swayed his hips completely unrhythmically, trying and failing miserably to follow the character on the screen. George’s head fell into his unoccupied hand as his body shook with laughter.

“I don’t think that’s the problem, mate,” Chris wheezed between laughs, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Shut up guys, I look fantastic.” Bach gave a cocky look to the camera as he wiggled his hips and swung his imaginary lasso.

The boys hadn’t realised that bartender had walked back into the room and was standing against the side wall, trying to mask her bubbling laughter with her hand. She could definitely see why the internet loved this lot so much. Their friendship was so organic and fun – just a group of genuine friends sharing their happiness with the world.

After watching Arthur step the wrong way and get shoved harshly by Bach, being berated like something out of Dance Moms, the girl let out an uncontrollable burst of laughter. George quickly shot around, locking eyes with the bartender and immediately finding himself smiling a little. When she offered him a toothy grin in response, he quickly blamed his heart skipping a beat and shortness of breath on his recent fits of laughter. Nothing more, right?

Arthur, noticing George’s distraction, followed his gaze. When he caught sight of the woman he threw his hands in the air. “Alright! More drinks, let’s go!”

“We ready for another round then, boys?” she said, clapping her hands before swiftly walking behind the bar.

The group let out a huge cheer and started to stand.

“Alright lads, what do we want?” Chris asked, as they all made their way to the bar.

“I could go for a Sambuca,” ArthurTV thought aloud.

“Too easy. 2 each?”

The woman got to preparing 10 Sambuca shots, impressing the boys as she tossed shot glasses between her hands, flipping them between her fingers and set them skilfully on the bench in a line. Wanting to show off a little, she chucked the bottle of liquor behind her back, catching it in her other hand. George couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly she moved, and how everything she touched seemed to bend to her will. The bottle she wielded almost acted as an extension of her. She possessed this sheer elegance and grace but always wore a cheeky smile that promised him she was so much more than a pretty bartender. She tossed the bottle once, catching it impressively close to the bench, before filling the glasses in a line, not a drop spilled. The boys watched in amazement and cheered as she demonstrated her skill.

Midway through her line, ArthurTV spoke up. “So, what’s your name? I feel like if you’re going to be our private bartender for the evening, we should be on a first name basis.”

The woman laughed and George felt his heart flutter a little at the sound. “I’m y/n, lovely to meet you all!” Y/n. Lovely to finally put a name to a beautiful face.

The boys all responded in a terribly flat chorus of “Hi, y/n” that had them all drunkenly giggling. One by one, the boys introduced themselves. George watched her as she smiled warmly and nodded at each one of them, laughing at the occasional snappy joke the boys would throw. It was becoming a lot less frequent that they could engage in a conversation like this – most people they would talk to in public already knew who they were or wanted something from them. It was refreshing.

A slap upside the back of his head snapped him out of his thoughts.

“What?” he asked, hand reaching up to rub his head.

“This old geezer is George,” Chris spoke, laughing at the shocked and confused expression on George’s face.

The bartender seemed to find it funny too, laughing along. “Lovely to meet you, George. Unless you prefer going by ‘old geezer’?”

“Um, no, George is fine,” he forced his way through an imminent stutter, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair, making sure to side-eye Chris. “I’m surprised you could even reach my head, you short twat.”

“Such a massive target it’d be an achievement to miss it, mate!”

The group roared in laughter, gripping each other’s shoulders. George couldn’t help but notice Y/n trying and failing to conceal her giggling behind her hand. Something about it made his heart swell and he immediately wanted to make her laugh more. Before George could speak, Arthur Hill picked up a shot and raised it in a toast.

“To the weirdest and wildest Soccer Saturday video we’ve ever done.”

A chorus of “Here here!” sounded before the boys tapped their glasses on the bench and raised them to their lips. George tipped the liquid into his mouth, wiping his lips as he swallowed.

Once the boys laid their empty glasses on the bar bench, Chris turned his head to address the group, picking up his second shot. “I think Y/n should do this next shot with us, considering everything she’s done to help us this evening.”

She cocked her head to the side, “It was no trouble at all, really. It was the least I could do.” She’s such a genuinely caring person.

“Nonsense! Drink with us – I triple dog dare you!” ArthurTV smiled mischievously at Y/n, trying to egg her on.

Throwing her head back in laughter at his childish antics, Y/n agreed with a shrug. She grabbed another glass and poured herself a fresh shot of Sambuca. Holding it in the air, she clinked it against the boys’ awaiting drinks.

“To Y/n!” ArthurTV said.

“To Y/n!” called the response.

They all threw back their shots and placed their glasses on the bench triumphantly. The boys quickly dispersed and went off to try their hand at another JustDance. George just caught ear of Arthur muttering something about them being able to 'slay harder' now because he wasn’t there to hold the phone; Chris cackled in response. It also wasn’t lost on George that Y/n gave a rushed shake of her head a little as she put the glass down.

“Not a fan of Sambuca?” he asked with a teasing smirk, noting her slightly screwed up face.

“Not my favourite. More of a gin or bourbon girl, myself. Care for another?” she asked, holding up the Sambuca bottle.

“Yeah, why not.” He held his glass up as she poured the liquor in. Putting the bottle on the bench, she waited expectantly for him to down the drink. “Well, hey, you expect me to drink this by myself? Pour yourself something girl, come on.” He cringed at his wording. Fuck, why can I not talk to women? She probably thinks I’m a fucking idiot, great job you wanker, this is why you’re single.

Y/n lets out a quick laugh before leaning a bit closer, batting her lashes in a playfully flirty way, “I am on the job you know, hun.”

George’s eyes blinked in surprise. Okay, George. Deep breaths. Play it cool.

“C’mon, one won’t hurt.”

He waited nervously while the bartender looked up to the ceiling, as if deep in thought. She tapped her chin jokingly, glancing down at his waiting face. Even though she knew there was no way she could say no to those big blue puppy eyes, she wanted to keep him on his toes. How often do you get to have some flirty fun with a handsome stranger?

“Oh, go on then,” she broke, tossing her hands up with a grin. She turned to her shelves of bottles, pausing for a moment before seemingly deciding on one. Leaning up onto her tippy toes, she reached for a bottle on one of the higher shelves. She let out a string of hushed curses when she barely graces the bottom of the bottom with her fingertip. Watching her move to grab the ladder against the wall, George all but leapt from his seat, setting his drink on the bench and walking behind the bar, swiftly moving to stand behind her.

“Which one you after, love?”

Y/n turns to look up at him before smirking a little, turning a little red at the faint feeling of his chest brushing against her shoulder. Saving herself the embarrassment of looking at him again, she quickly motioned to a short round bottle near the middle of the shelf. Hardly stretching at all, George plucked the liquor from the shelf. The girl moved to take it from his hands, but he teasingly moved it out of her reach.

“Uh, uh. Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?”

Rolling her eyes playfully, she failed miserably at keeping the smile off her face, “Oh, I’m so sorry. That was so rude of me, kind sir.”

George couldn’t help the huge grin creeping its way onto his face. “Yet, you still haven’t said the magic words.” He tapped on his ear with his free hand, donning an I’m waiting face.

“You’re ridiculous.”

He waited patiently, smile unwavering and eyes glinting with a sweet mischief that almost made her knees buckle.

She dropped her head in an adorable display of mock defeat, letting her arms flop to her sides before tilting her head up to meet his eyes. “Thank you, George, for your ever so kind gesture.”

Straightening his stance with a satisfied smirk, he presented the bottle to Y/n with an exaggerated flourish, “Pleasure to be of service to you, milady.”

Taking the bottle from his hands, George’s skin felt alight where her fingertips brushed his. A light tingle, like nothing he’s ever felt before. He had no idea what he was feeling but one thing was certain – he wanted more.

Y/n swiftly moved to stand at the bench, grabbing her glass and setting it on the dark oak wood. After filling her glass with practiced expertise, she reached over and picked up George’s glass. Turning to face him, she offered him his shot with a playful smile and quick wink.

He took it and clinked it against hers, “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

After emptying their glasses, Y/n held out her hand to take George’s glass and chucked them in the sink. George couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her – every movement was intoxicating and mesmerising. It was like he felt attracted to her very energy. He felt lighter and almost revitalised every time she looked at him, and each fleeting touch was like a jolt of live electricity, sparking his heart to beat harder and faster.

“So, what brings you lot to Doncaster?”

“Uh, well essentially, we do these videos where the first team to score dictates where we go for our night out. Doncaster scored, so here we are.” Could you be any more boring? Where is the charm everyone says you have??

Y/n’s eyes twinkled, nonetheless. “Oh wow, that sounds so fun! I love stuff like that – spontaneous and adventurous. No plans, just seeing what comes along.”

“Exactly,” George spoke, naturally mirroring her enthusiasm. He felt a surge of validation and excitement to hear that she had the same zest for life and adventure that he did. “I’ve definitely made some of my best memories with the guys on trips like this. Every night is different and that’s what makes it exciting.”

Conversation with Y/n flowed so easily. They fed off each other’s energy like they’d known each other for years. It was then that George noticed how much he loved being able to have a normal conversation, without his influencer-status being brought into the mix. But most importantly, he realised how much he loved talking to Y/n.

She was almost like a shot of espresso. With no more than a smile, the worry, anxiety, and helplessness he felt in that bustling crowd before melted away and gave way to warmth. He felt safe, secure, and genuinely happy – something he hadn’t truly felt all evening. It felt like they'd been talking for hours. George barely felt any concept of time in her presence; nothing as trivial as the tick of a clock seemed even remotely important as he felt himself becoming lost within the depths of her eyes and the intoxicating tone of her voice. He felt a little giddy, almost like he was a little bit tipsy despite not having much at all. Is this what the movies are talking about?

“George!”

Chris’ voice from behind the bar interrupted George’s thoughts, making him reluctantly turn away from the girl in front of him.

“We’d better get going if we want to start checking off things on his bingo card, mate,” Chris spoke, waving his phone a little.

George’s heart sunk a little. I forgot we had to leave.

Y/n’s smile dropped ever so slightly, her shoulders slumping as if she was also a little disappointed. Of course she was – George was one of the sweetest and most genuine guys she’d ever met. The connection between them was almost instantaneous, and she could only pray he felt the same thing as her.

“I’ll let you guys out the back door, you’ll avoid the crowds that way.” With a surge of boldness, she allowed her fingers to brush George's wrist as she stepped past him and out onto the room floor. She smiled a little to herself as little sparks of electricity danced across her skin.

She led the boys through a door in the corner of the room, holding it open as they all stepped through. “Just straight down past the kitchen there’s a door on your right,” she called to the group as they walked down the hallway. Stepping through the door, George nodded appreciatively which she returned with a bright smile.

They walked in a comfortable yet emotionally charged silence. With each step, the weight of responsibility to be the one to make a move or even acknowledge their undeniable chemistry bared heavier on each of them.

George desperately wanted to see her again. He’d only known her a couple of hours, but he liked who he was around her, and the thought of walking away from her filled him with a dread.

Catching his attention, Y/n brushed past him to take a few hurried steps towards the door, rushing to grab the door from Arthur Hill, who was holding it open for them. She thanked him and leant against the door, propping it open for George as she brushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

He shuffled past her, stepping into the cool night air.

The boys stood huddled a few meters from the door, but George wasn't ready to step away from Y/n just yet.

"Thank you so much again for everything tonight, Y/n. It was so kind of you," Chris spoke.

"Yes - we honestly really appreciate it," ArthurTV added with a sweet smile.

Y/n merely waved her hand dismissively, but the shy smile on her face gave away how much she appreciated the thanks, "It was nothing, really. Always happy to help you guys out if you ever happen to find yourselves around Doncaster again."

The group, deciding to start researching their next move, started drifting further down the alleyway towards the street. George's eyes briefly flittered over to them before taking a breath.

Now or never, Clarkey.

And so before he could second guess himself, he forced himself to speak.

I am not passing up this chance. Not with her.

“Hey, when do you get off tonight?”

The smile that crept onto Y/n’s face made every worry melt away. He found himself willing for the universe to acknowledge any good he’d done in his life and allow him to cash in whatever chip he had for one more night with her. But in that moment, as he looked at her, even if she cruelly rejected him or told him to fuck off, it was worth it to see her beautiful smile. But something in the way her eyes crinkled and seemed to sparkle told him that the universe answered him.

“2 o’clock.”

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and a relieved smile took over his face. “Perfect. I’ll come by and pick you up.”

“And what’re we going to do?” Y/n tried to seem casual, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her head to the side with a cheeky grin, but even she could barely contain the bubble of excitement in her chest.

It took all his energy to contain both a fit of gleeful giggles and jumps of joy. In attempt to hide his excited energy, he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “Spontaneous and adventurous, remember? No plans, just seeing what comes along.” His eyes shimmered with a playful mischief as he walked backwards towards the boys. Y/n couldn't help but let out a laugh, her stomach feeling warm and fluttery that he'd remembered her words. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Y/n saluted him with 2 fingers, watching with a widening smile as he turned on his heel and walked towards the boys. Clapping each other on the shoulders, they shouted their thanks and appreciation to Y/n before walking off into the night to find their next stop. And just before they disappeared around the corner, George, illuminated by the streetlights, sent her a toothy smile and a wink.

Y/n quickly glanced down at her watch. 10:30pm.

And, as she closed and locked the door behind her, there was no use trying to fight the smile creeping onto her face.

2am couldn’t come soon enough.

_____________________________________________________________

Arrghhhh what do we think?

I'm actually starting to wildly second guess everything I write, so this is very much a "post it before I just delete it all" type thing LMAO

Part 3 coming next weekish <3

[lune-redd]

Hello, it's Lelly.

As you may know, I have recently deactivated my Twitter account. A lot of people are speculating I left because I was being harassed for drawing my older depiction of Bubbles from The Powerpuff Girls as chubby. However... that's not the direct reason I left. In fact, I didn't really see much of the comments of folks on there getting riled up about it as I muted the tweet the morning I saw that it blew up. I was only merely aware of it all by being told about it from friends, with there being some other users on the site making other really fuckin' stupid comments about my art.

This does however lead into why I actually left Twitter, and it's because of Twitter's overall toxic nature. Overtime, I've really gotten sick of how absolutely revolting Twitter has become to experience. The site is basically built around dunk culture and doom scrolling. You know that one tweet of someone making an example of Twitter's utter stupidity by using pancakes and waffles as an example?

I bring this up because I think this fits my point about how Twitter has this thing of assuming the absolute worst about the most insignificant things, even the most innocuous. The "Bubbles obesity" comments weren't the only stupid comments that came out of that post. I also got a quote retweet that I was "forcefully feminizing Buttercup", even though the whole fucking point of that drawing was to depict a usually tough character in an unusual situation for her. I have also gotten stupid comments on other drawings though, like the one where Mitch pushes Buttercup down for trying to look taller than she is and I got called a misogynist for it, though I'm pretty sure that one was bait (Twitter users have a tough time figuring out what is and isn't bait, it's dunk culture that I'm about to talk about really doesn't help this).

The site's dunk culture is also really fuckin' bad. Quote retweets are a disease, as unlike Tumblr's reblog comments, quote retweets count as a different post. Someone disagrees with you? Show your audience how stupid they are on your page! Hey, are you trying not to see the most abhorrent racist statement imaginable? Well TOO BAD FUCK YOU here's a le epic own giving them all the attention in the world even though one of the most common internet rules are DON'T FEED THE FUCKIN' TROLLS YOU IDIOT. Oh hey, are you trying to explain how you prefer a certain artistic choice over another in something you like? Well you're a deranged ungrateful whiny nitpicker, get owned!

I've seen so many of my friends be belittled for simply discussing their artistic preferences of things they're passionate about. I had a friend who said he prefers the original Crash Bandicoot design over his redesigned look in Crash 4, and had legitimate reasons for why he felt that way (even if he didn't really explain them clearly), and he got dunked for it which made me mad. I'm sick and tired of it all. The reaction to my art is only a mere example of the shit I despise about that site.

I had been planning on leaving Twitter for quite some time, as my follower count was growing nearer and nearer to 10K. I had planned on leaving after 10K followers because that amount was wayyyy too fuckin big for me to handle. I'm a young and growing lad, and I felt it wouldn't be good for my mental sanity to handle all that, so I dipped. The amount of attention I've been getting is simultaneously both wonderful and extremely overwhelming. Even the explosion of new followers and asks on here is quite the load! (Seriously, calm the fuck down y'all) I am very grateful for all the supportive asks I've gotten even though I won't be able to answer them all, thank you all so very much.

tl;dr I didn't leave Twitter because I was being harassed or anything, but rather because of the site's overall toxic and belittling environment.

Adios.

-Lelly

[irisfixation]

it is generally understood within the adventuring community that some sort of contract should be preemptively made in order to protect oneself from an untimely death.

[original hypnosis fic, second-person narration from perspective of the subject. gender-neutral, little to no sexual content. please read accordingly, and enjoy.]

now, the act of seeking out such a contract, let alone the fact of its normalization, would have been taboo a few decades past. "we don't negotiate with pact-entities", the old elders crow; anti-demon and anti-fae rhetoric was accepted as the norm.

it only took looking at the rate of mortality, the expenditures of the local church, and getting over themselves to at last shake up the in-culture of heroics.

of course, that didn't mean they weren't diligent with their new protocols; information on prospective patrons was inscribed down in ledgers half phone book and half grimoire, noting the terms of agreement, the trustworthiness of pact-entity after pact-entity, any bargain a little too faustian struck through in red.

you'd watch your peers peer through the book, discussing the pros and cons of each. was an unlucky fate too much to pay? were compulsions too obstructive, did the bodily changes contrast too much with one's self-identity?

of course, they all ended up choosing sooner or another. better that than dying young and alone.

it was under this sort of necessity that you went to the house.

-------

it was closer to home than you expected, really - you anticipated some kind of ominous manor on the cliffs, or secluded cabin by the forest's edge, so the three minute walk from the town square came as a welcome surprise. its residence looked the same as any other lodging - you'd no doubt walked past it on your regular commutes countless times without batting an eye.

you knocked, and the door fell open, as if it had been awaiting your arrival; afternoon sunlight bouncing off the gossamer-thin threads adorning the hallway.

make yourself at home, she says. i'll be upstairs when you're ready to talk. you nod and ask if there's any consequences for eating any food or drink. i promise you this; all food i've set out here is yours to eat and drink without consequence comes the reply; perhaps a little verbose from anyone else, but necessary caveats for a pact-entity's trust. you oblige.

with throat wet and stomach sated, you ascend the stairs. the bedroom is small, humble even; you've seen more expensive homes by far from some of your more show-off rivals. more fit for a pauper than the-

"than Her Lady of Marionettes?"

yeah.

"i never cared all too much for the trappings of nobility. i'm satisfied simply living in peace here."

then why the contracts?

"it's mutually beneficial, no? i quench my thirst for control for a time, and you don't meet any horrible, lonely fates. it's no different from any other line of work."

more reasonable than any would-be evil queen you've ever met, let alone one considered an enemy to the hero's guild not so long ago.

"please. i never cared all too much for that arrangement."

she rolls in her bed to face you. despite her role, she looks little different from your sister or partner; eyes still closed, hands still set upon her crosses.

-------

you discuss business. she will string you up, she says; and then, if she were to find yourself in an otherwise fatal scenario, she will pull your body back, mend you, even clear your mind from any hostile entities trying to take it over.

what do each of you get out of this?

"i get to observe the world through your eyes. i get the joy of commanding a body beyond my own. you cede a small, negotiated amount of control, and in return you are freed from tragedy's grasp forevermore."

it sounded like a hell of a better deal than half of the faustian bargains you saw other contract-entities propose.

"if you'd like, we can provide a demonstration here and now. no permanent alterations, and you can back out any time you wish. is that amenable?"

it does indeed sound amenable.

-------

you're sitting by her side on the bed. she's set her crosses down in place of a needle she holds deftly between thumb and forefinger, pinched together like a bee ready to sting. "hold your left arm out, please? we'll begin now."

you do so, and she passes the needle through skin. you feel it travel up across the veins in your wrist, her other hand steadying you in place with the tenderness of lily-petals. your elbow twitches as it passes through; the nerves firing once in shock, but no more. up through bicep, then shoulder; and then out, a release in pressure from within as the needle finally leaves your insides, leaving a trail of silken fibres behind it.

she plucks the taut string left in its wake, and your arm twitches with it, pulled from within. "see? no pain at all."

next is the right arm, then the legs. she flutters around you like a sprite alighting upon forest blossoms, soft fingers and steel-precise nails moving you, adjusting your wrist or shoulders or rotation with studious diligence. the intimacy of being studied and guided like this is almost palpable.

"...and, done." she declares, finishing a line of thread across the shoulders and through the nape of the neck. "well, how is it? comfortable, right?"

"yes, miss", you are made to say; and then, immediately, recall the strings through your upper and lower lip alike, a third running through the seam in your tongue. right. you move your eyes to meet hers; she's smiling brightly, but it's more the naive smile of a child than the former evil queen's smirk you expected. the effect is equal amounts unsettling and genuinely cute.

"well, let's begin." she picks up her crosses again, and with one subtle rotation of a hand's balance, she guides you.

it's easy to follow through. your right arm raises with a poise and natural nature that shocks you, outstretched to one side. she returns her hand to neutral, and your arm falls back once again, more sudden and limp than you were expecting.

("excellent", she says.)

with that first test done, she guides you down the stairs. your eyes are still your own, so some reflexive part of you fidgets as your body glides down each flight of steps; you have no control over if you fall or not. she could throw you down the stairs now, and you'd be helpless; passenger in your own tumbling body.

but she doesn't. your hand remains firmly upon the balustrade, and your every footstep is delivered with care. by the time you reach the landing, your heart may be pounding, but you're just glad to have made it through.

("well done," crows her voice.)

the near-invisible threads all throughout your body continue to urge you forward - sometimes single strings tugging suddenly, but other times shifting in a steady unison, almost imperceptible from your body's natural movements save that no thought of your own guides it. you're in the kitchen, before too long - a rack of dried dishes shows that she, too, has been here recently. your fingers and palm grasp onto each bowl and glass, one by one, filing them away in procedure through the unfamiliar house.

with your body outside of your control, you'd think your mind would wander to idle thoughts; to the birdsong from beyond the window, perhaps, or to thoughts of how your companions are faring in their own attempts to find their own contracts. but all thoughts seem to be silenced by each consequent string's plucking, a resonance within yourself that numbs your brain under its force.

before you know it, the rack of dishes is clear, and you are ascending the stairs again. it's less scary going up, and she knows it; she takes each step faster now, with a fluidity of movement that your legs accept graciously. there is no joint pain, no hesitation - each step is placed with pinpoint precision, each movement following the next.

a puppet's dance, you think; then dismiss the idea just as quickly. you're just here to obtain insurance from danger, not to humor thoughts like that.

she's lying back down on the bed when you arrive - exposing her back to you, vulnerable. but her hands are still outstretched, each one holding those crosses linked to the many strings pulled taut across, within, and around you. "welcome back", she tells you. "i trust it wasn't too uncomfortable?"

"no," you say, "it was fine."

"i'm glad to hear it!" she says, turning to smile at you. "and you took to it so well, too! good doll."

there's something about meeting her eyes as she says those last two words that feels different from everything prior. something deeper, like the strings are mycelial network growing their own nerves to entangle around yours, setting them alight in a microcosm dance, your whole body twitching just subtly as you are affixed within her gaze, burning up from the inside out-

"oh, my apologies. old habits die hard it would seem."

she doesn't gesture you to sit next to her, but your body does so, so you can assume it was her will all the same. she turns to you and explains that the demonstration has concluded; that the act of forming a pact with her is something you can now think of on your own, that you can return to her any time you need and in fact she'll completely understand if she never sees you again. she snips off the strings, one by one, with a pair of ornate scissors - the ones within will dissolve organically, she notes, metabolized by your own body. nothing to worry about.

you're not worrying. you're not thinking much at all, in the aftermath of everything that's happened. but she is patient, and you have all the time you need to recover.

-------

she walks you to the door and waves you out with a flourish. you're reminded of how mundane the house is, and now you can see that same mundanity in the Lady's face; no different from any number of passers-by through the town square.

"safe travels~!" she says, and you walk out the door; your steps faltering just a little as you once more acclimate to control over your own body.

well, for a contract patron, that wasn't so bad. and she seems well-meaning enough. maybe you'll go back there sometime again, you think to yourself, and shrug as you make your way home.

[ferrarifinnick]

Who do you think has the highest sex drive in THG?

ooo i love this anon. we're getting right into it. original series cast below but i could be convinced to do a tbosas version hehe. also colour coded for convenience. nsfw ahead. proceed with caution.

includes: gale, finnick, peeta, katniss

most to least: biggest sex drive, highest first and lowest last.

i think gale uses sex as an emotional outlet. he isn't a talker. he's a shouter, screamer, shake them till they listen kind of man, but he doesn't use talking as a way of resolving that raging fire burning within (and it burns more often than it isn't). for settling his anger—because we know gale's primary emotion is anger—he's predictably simple. animalistic in a way. when he's biting at the little things, shunning you with that big cold shoulder, it only means one thing. and that thing is between his thighs, furious but so in need of your attention, even if gale acts as if that's the last thing he wants from you. but when you settle on your knees under the dinner table, your whole body fitting between his long, thick legs, he only has to look down at your patient smile to set aside his pride and unzip his pants.

don't let finnick fool you. he might peacock and flaunt himself half naked to the world, but behind closed doors, when the prying eyes are shut out, he drops the façade. not entirely. he still likes the attention he can draw from you with just a little wink, a lick of his lips. but what he really likes, what really gets him is the no strings attached affection you bless him with. the gentle squeeze of his hand before you turn to your side to fall asleep, as if to say goodnight my love. brushing your finger over his cheek to catch a stray eyelash, then letting him blow it away to make a wish. these moments of recognition, of being seen as a soul, not just sex, are the moments that get him, and they happen at the most unexpected times. you think he's sexually spontaneous, but in truth he just can't control the impulse to express to you just how much he loves being seen as human.

peeta has an extraordinary sex drive. he is ready to go in the flashiest of flashes, no questions needed, but i put him here because–for the most part–he won't express this. he understands that expressing his desire constantly might send the wrong message, and the last thing he wants is to pressure you or make you think he only wants what's in your pants. that's not to say he doesn't make the first move, because he almost always does, but rather that he picks the right times to do it. when you're giving him signals that you want him, need him, he'll show you exactly how much he needs you, too. might even get you to touch the proof of his need. or lick it. or suck and fuck it.

katniss finds herself longing for emotional intimacy more than physical, and so i think she would easily go long spells without sex quite happily. there will be moments where she'll be consumed with such primal need for your skin on hers that she will wordlessly wrap you around her, hoping you'll catch on to her plea. and you do, because although katniss can provide and protect, she needs so desperately to be guided in sex. she needs to be taken care of, even if she can't bring herself to ask for it. moments like these are few and far between, but when they happen, they matter.

share your thoughts! like, comment, reblog. submit smutty requests. love <3

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Saw a post not too long ago (don’t even remember what it was about lol) and everyone in the comments was in agreement on how TWST should have an Emperor’s New Groove event with a Yzma twisted character that would be so fun and somebody should be turned into a llama.

…

…

…

I think Vil would make a great llama.

…

but really who out of our cast do you think would suit an ENG event and who do you think would be the best llama? 🤔

When I think of The Emperor’s New Groove, the four characters that come to my mind are Kuzco (ie “The Llama”), Pacha, Yzma, and Kronk. That’s perfect for the usual limited SSR, 2 SRs, and R introduced for new story events. Each of them could wear an outfit inspired by their Disney film counterpart. There could also potentially be a new twisted character introduced, but this only occurs for “hometown” (ie visiting other countries) events and Halloween events sooo 😅

For our Kuzco stand-in… Well, someone from a rich and influential background + has a ton of arrogance makes sense, right? So my immediate thought was Malleus or Leona, the royals. Idia or Riddle could also work, but they’re not quite as dickish. Of those, I think Leona works the best since he’s the most overtly asshole-y of the bunch and also it would be a little funny for the beastman to actually become a fluffy animal/j. Plus, he comes from the Sunset Savanna, which could be made into a reference about how Yzma’s original plan was to “snuff out the light” of the sun.

Something I’d really like to see is Kalim dressed as our Kuzco. He’s not a traditional asshole, but I think he could stand to learn a lot from being made more aware of how the less fortunate (like Pacha’s family) live. This might be valuable in connecting Kalim with the plight of the common folk, as well as get him to realize how some of the things he says/does are unintentionally very callous. The “snuff out the light” of the the sun metaphor also works for Kalim since he is usually so sunny + depicted as the sun, which contrasts with the moon (ie Jamil). The moon is also mentioned in the song lyrics, seeking revenge, reclaiming “[my] right”, and a world of darkness.

Pacha is very fatherly and kind, so I immediately thought Trey would fit in the best out of all of the “parental” students. (The others seem way too sarcastic or snide in underhanded ways.) Plus, that green poncho Pacha wears would look nice on Trey :>

Yzma has many potential candidates! I think Vil actually fits in a lot better as Yzma than as Kuzco, especially granted her obsession with maintaining her looks (very Vilcore) + penchant for potions (his best subject). You could also consider Azul, as he wants to maintain a certain public image and also seems to be good with brewing potions. On the more treacherous side, we could look at Jade (who shares the same best subject as Vil) and Jamil. There’s literally lines like “I’ve really stopped at nothing/Murder, treachery, and lying”. Jamil works super well especially if Kalim is our Kuzco for that moon and sun dynamic.

Himbo Kronk also needs a himbo to match! A physically strong yet well-meaning boy with a heart of good but not a lot of brains… It makes me think of Deuce or Silver. Jack and Sebek could also work here, but both of those guys are pretty (book) smart. Doesn’t have to be an exact match for Kronk though. I could easily see a situation where Sebek’s brazenness or Jack’s bluntness results in something stupid happening.

[blueblossomrose]

hi, I hope you are well!

i have a askk

what about Genshin Impact characters with a fem!reader who has powers similar to Gojo Satoru?

Hey! Sorry for the late delivery 😭

You didn't specify which characters you wanted so I just put the ones I thought fit on my proposal 👁

Characters: Wanderer (Scaramouche), Lisa, Diluc, Xiao, Thoma, Lumine/Aether (both travelers).

Content: It can be interpreted as platonic or romantic, some swear words perhaps, mention of violence typical of the Jujutsu Kaisen canon, reader is gn but more like male because Gojo is a man.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

[Name] was a complex individual. He/She came to Teyvat along with the traveler, apparently being from a noble family from his/her and the traveler's original world. Yet, his/her incredibly strong strength and abilities coupled with his/her arrogant personality make the residents of Teyvat confused.

"What the f*ck are you doing?" Wanderer, or Scara, as you call him against his will, while you two were on a mission, looking for mint for the traveler.

"Can't you see? Water fall! Hehe~" you laughed foolishly as your technique prevented the water from reaching you, making a small waterfall above your head.

Scara let out a sound similar to a grunt mixed with a deep sigh.

"Why in the world traveler just have to put me with you?"

“Oh, stop complaining. I bet you’re secretly having fun.”

“Having fun? What in Teyvat makes you think that’s fun?” Scara narrowed his eyes at [Name], clearly exasperated.

“Well, you’re still here, aren’t you? If you really wanted to leave, you would have found a way by now.”

For a moment, the Wanderer was silent, his prepared response dying in his throat. He stared at the waterfall, and as much as he wanted to deny it, there was something... comforting about the scene. Something so simple, yet so absurdly peaceful that he couldn't help but let his guard down a little. He looked away, sulking.

"You're insufferable." he finally muttered, though his voice sounded less sharp.

"That sounds like a compliment coming from you!" [Name] replied with a wink.

Scara gave him a long, sharp look. "If you don't find the mint in ten minutes, I'll throw you under the waterfall for real."

The traveler was worried that you would end up killing each other. Surprisingly, you are always cursing each other but you have never gotten physical.

Perhaps it helped that the traveler made it clear to the Wanderer that you were the strongest in your world. Scara is not stupid, he doesn't pick fights with the stronger ones. Yet, he learned a lot about the kind of person you are.

"I'd like to find those artifact books before the traveler gets mad at me. I mean, Lumine/Aether can even cry!" [Name] said with an overly dramatic air, leaning forward slightly as she stared at Jean.

Jean just shook her head and sighed. Despite everything, a slight smile played at the corners of her lips, evidence that she did, in fact, find [Name]'s antics amusing.

"You never miss a chance to put on a show, do you?" Jean commented.

At the top of the stairs, Lisa watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Leaning against the banister, she looks at [Name]. “Hmm, if I were crying, would you comfort me? Honestly, I would love that.”

[Name] looked up at Lisa, eyes shining with provocation. “Ah, Lisa, but you never cry! You’re too strong for that.”

“Aha, really?” Lisa smiled and laughed softly.

When Traveler asked if you really thought Lisa was that strong or were joking, you just shrugged.

Honestly, Lisa could be really strong!... or it could be pure flattery too, who knows?

“What kind of bartender doesn’t like alcohol?” [Name] asked, arching an eyebrow as watched Diluc with a wry smile, fiddling with the dessert glass you had just finished devouring.

Diluc paused for a moment, the cloth falling onto the counter with a restrained sigh. He stared at [Name] with an expression that was on the edge of patience, his eyes narrowed. "I don't think you're the ideal person to judge me," Diluc retorted, his fingers touching the glass gently. "Being the psychotic for sweets that you are, I mean."

You made a dramatic movement of placing your hand over your chest, simulating an expression of exaggerated offense.

"Aaah, but that has nothing to do with it! I don't own a wine cellar!" You replied, turning your face away.

"If I work as a gravedigger, do I need to be buried?" Diluc said dryly, placing the glass back on the shelf with precision.

"That doesn't even make sense!" [Name] exclaimed, shrugging. "You're just making things up because you have no arguments." the sarcasm was clear in your voice, but there was also a subtle glint in your eyes that suggested you was enjoying the exchange.

Diluc let out a sigh, looking more tired than irritated.

"Tell me, [Name], why exactly is someone who clearly doesn't enjoy alcohol here in my wine cellar, filling my counter with candy crumbs?" he asked, taking a step towards the counter to organize the bottles with meticulous precision.

[Name] made a dramatic gesture with the hands, smiling teasingly. "Oh, it's nothing. I just like looking at your face and your red hair~"

Diluc huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at [Name] with a mixture of irritation and resignation. “[Name], don’t you have anything better to do than break into my wine cellar and distract me while I work?” he asked, his tone exasperated but low enough not to draw the attention of his employees.

“No, actually, I don’t,” [Name] replied, with a mischievous smile that contrasted with Diluc’s scowl. “Besides, you have to admit that company does lighten the mood of this place. It’s so… melancholy. It seems like someone here is carrying a lot of grief.”

Diluc’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t bite at the provocation. He slung the cloth over his shoulder and grabbed a fresh bottle of wine to organize the shelves, turning his attention back to his work. “If you think this place is gloomy, maybe you shouldn’t be here. I’m sure Jean or Albedo would love to hear your unnecessary comments elsewhere.”

“But neither of them have that hair,” [Name] replied, plucking an imaginary strand out of the air and twirling his fingers theatrically. “You know, you could use a little more lightheartedness. Maybe I should bring you some sweets next time. Something that matches your hidden charm.”

“I don’t need a lightheartedness, and certainly not your sweets scattered all over the counter,” Diluc retorted, finally turning to face him. “Why are you really here, [Name]? It can’t be just to tease me.”

[Name]’s expression changed for a moment, the playful smile softening. “Maybe I enjoy your company, Diluc. It’s refreshing to see someone so… genuine. No matter how grumpy they are.”

Diluc was silent for a few seconds, his red eyes fixed on the you. He sighed, as if admitting a silent defeat, and went back to work. "Do whatever you want. Just don't leave any more crumbs on my counter."

[Name] laughed, leaning forward to support him with her elbows. "I knew that deep down you like me, redhead. You just don't know how to admit it."

"In your dreams..." Diluc replied, but the corner of his mouth almost threatened to form a smile.

You're honestly annoying. But he likes you. But he doesn't admit it.

"You really don't talk much, do you?" [Name] commented, leaning forward a little. "But that's okay, I'm good enough for two." Your voice was filled with a confidence that didn't go unnoticed.

"I'm also the type who doesn't have the patience for a long silence. In my world, being the strongest is something that comes naturally. No one dares to doubt that, and I can assure you that my power is something... unquestionable."

“You talk too much.” Xiao finally replied, his voice low and somewhat harsh, as natural of his voice. “And yet… you have no idea what it means to truly carry the weight of eternity.” He pause. “I am a Yaksha, you know. We are more than just strength.”

"You have this aura of mystery, this... silence one. I'm very good at noticing details. And you, my friend, are full of them." You say, your tone naturally laden with arrogance, but Xiao sharpens his eyes.

"Very presumptuous for someone young." Xiao says, but shakes his head in the end.

It may not seem like it, but he is not bothered by your presence.

You tend to talk a lot, he honestly doesn't mind. It may seem like he's not listening, but he is.

He cares about you. Even though you keep saying that you are the strongest in your world. He wasn't around to see your displays of power, so he doesn't believe it.

He knows your arrogance will get you into trouble. That's why he's always around.

“Thoma, it’s been a while!” [Name] exclaimed with a wide smile, your eyes shining with amusement as you saw Thoma’s blond head in the distance at the shop where the Kamisato Clan’s caretaker was buying some items for the day.

Your voice echoed through the street, carrying an unmistakable confidence, as if you had just met an old friend after a long period of absence.

Thoma, who had been distracted by picking out some ingredients for dinner, looked up quickly, immediately recognizing [Name]’s presence. He smiled back, his expression friendly and relaxed, his eyes sparkling with a hint of humor.

“Oh, ah! [Name]!” he exclaimed, raising one of his hands in greeting. He took a step towards [Name], with his usual welcoming smile.

"How have you been, Thoma?" [Name] asked with a mischievous smile. "Continuing your mission to solve all the problems in Inazuma, as always?"

Thoma, for his part, chuckled softly, leaning forward slightly, his eyes shining with amusement. “I try. But what about you? How’s life in Teyvat? Still enjoying your… ‘games’?” Thoma’s tone was friendly, in no rush to get serious about any conversation, but it was also a bit teasing. He knew [Name] had a tendency to make fun of situations and people, though he could also tell that behind that arrogance was something else, something more human.

“Ah, you know… Life is much more interesting when you can joke around with others. I can’t help but be amused by the situations you and your Kamisato Clan get yourselves into.”

Thoma laughed, his smile now wider, he had grown accustomed to this dynamic of teasing and teasing between them. "I know, I know. But if you need help with any problems, you know where to find me."

"I know," [Name] replied, smile turning into a more relaxed expression, but still with a glint of mischief in the eyes. "I just hope you don't get into too much trouble with your duties. I don't want you to be too busy to help me when I need it."

You two act like you've known each other for ages. It honestly surprises everyone around.

Thoma cares about you just like Xiao does, but he personally believes that you are capable of handling yourself even without ever seeing your displays of power.

You've known each other for a long time. A really long time. Like, since birth.

Aether knows you like the back of his hand. Your family has always been rich and famous in the world you came from, your clan being the largest. Yet, you know the twins by literally sneaking them into your house.

"Come on, come up!" A child [Name] insists at the small window of your room. Aether was crouched on the lawn and whimpered.

"I can’t do it! It's too high!" Aether says.

"Ugh, you crybaby!" [Name] grumbles.

You then start to rummage through your room looking for something. You grab a stool, quickly climbing onto it and leaning against the window. "Give me your hand."

"U-Uhh, but what if I fall??" Aether says hesitantly.

"Hurry up!"

Even though he was scared, Aether closed his eyes tightly and grabbed [Name]'s hand.

"I won't let go. I'll never let go." [Name]'s words made Aether open his eyes, seeing those deep vibrant blue eyes, and a smile. Not malicious like usual, but honest. "See? You don't have to be afraid of anything."

You didn't really let go of him. You never let go of him.

And he couldn't be happier about it.

You two will find Lumine. And you all will go home, together.

“Tsk, this is ridiculous.” [Name]’s voice was cold, but filled with a quiet anger that made even Lumine feel uncomfortable.

You had always been the type of person to keep himself in control, but when your emotions boiled over, it was clear how unpredictable you could be. Lumine watched as your made impatient gestures, she can count on one hand the times she's seen you so upset.

“That fatui trash thinks he can mess with you? Good news, he CANNOT,” [Name] continued, voice a bit louder than usual, revealing a fierce anger that rarely displayed.

You was referring to Tartaglia, who had tried to approach Lumine with a sly smile, his intentions veiled, as always. Lumine didn’t respond right away.

She leaned forward a little, looking at him with a surprised expression.

“Why are you so upset about this?” she asked.

“Because no one has the right to treat you that way,” you said, still carrying an inner strength that could not be ignored. “I will not allow some piece of weak trash to think he can do whatever he wants.”

“You really need to stop getting so angry over that small thing.” Lumine says, but quickly shakes her head. "I can take care of myself, you know."

“I know you can defend yourself, Lumine, but sometimes the world needs to remember who’s really in control.” [Nome] spoke with renewed confidence, but this time it was more of a statement than a threat.

"You don't have to worry, [Name]. I can take care of myself." Lumine said in a soft but firm tone.

[Name] watched her for a moment, and for a brief second, the gaze softened. "I know, Lumine. I know." You finally murmured.

Like, yeah. No one messes with the ones you care about.

[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 6

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

I don't think you guys realize how hard it is for me to write Hyunjin and Seungmin as rude and mean, I just love them so much. I promise it's not forever though. I'm going to start refiring to Felix as an omega as the pack does all see him as one. He is still completely a beta though.

Chapter 6

Y/n has been wandering around the house a little bit to have a better understanding as to where everything is while most of the pack is out or doing their own things. She avoids going into any of the bedrooms she knows about, not wanting to invade anyone's privacy even though all four alphas and Jisung and Felix told her she’s welcome in theirs anytime she wants.

She hadn’t realized exactly how big the house was originally until she started to explore. There’s an indoor and outdoor pool that is connected and just has a  small opening under glass that separates it. They have an at home gym, which is where Changbin and Chan currently are. There’s a game room with a pool table, foosball, video game set with several consoles and a large TV and a lot of seating. As well as a small wet bar that looks like has some alcohol and snacks. She really only had gotten to glance in there though since Hyunjin is currently painting in there and made sure he didn’t notice her. 

She saw their den just off of the living room and dining room, it having a large nest to be able to fit the whole pack. She already knows that it was Felix who had made it. And saw the other four guest bedrooms already knowing the fifth one as Hannah’s since she’s been getting clothes from the closet each day. She had planned to wander around outside and see how big the grounds are but there has been something about the second floor that has been bothering her.

She had noticed that there were ten bedrooms and five bathrooms. Minho had told her whose rooms were whose of the packs as well as who was sharing which bathrooms, she’s sharing a bathroom with Felix and Jisung gets his own since he’s too messy, no one wanted to share. But there’s that tenth bedroom that he had just walked past and didn’t say anything about, and she wants to know what’s in it.

She quietly goes down the hallway and reaches the bedroom at the end right next to Chan's room. She glances around to make sure she’s alone before opening the door. She walks in and sees a bare bed and there’s a few boxes around. No decorations on the wall or even a dresser or desk. And the closet is empty. She feels a little guilty for snooping but she can’t help but to look inside the boxes. 

There’s a bunch of pictures in one box, it’s all of the pack from when they were younger except there’s another guy in each one that she doesn’t recognize. She goes through each one smiling at how cute the pack was so young but she’s curious as to who the ninth person is and wonders where he is now. 

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” A voice scares her causing her to drop the pictures back in the box as she looks up to see an angry Seungmin. 

“I-I was just… w-wandering the house.” She tries to explain herself. “To-to get a feel for everything.”

“You’re a guest here, you don’t get to just go around snooping.” He growls and grabs her bruised wrist hard, causing her to whimper as he drags her out of the room. “Besides, this room is off limits.”

“No-no one told me that.” She holds back making any other sounds of pain. “I’m sorry.”

Seungmin pushes her down the hall a little causing her to stumble. “Know your place, omega.”

“Seungmin.” Chan growls, having witnessed what just happened, still sweaty from his workout with Changbin.

The beta just glares at his alpha, not caring about any consequences. “Don’t go reprimanding me, she was snooping when she shouldn’t be.” He motions to the now closed door.

“I’m so-sorry.” Y/n curls in on herself scared the alpha’s going to lash out at her. “I didn’t know the room was off limits. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay baby girl.” Chan reaches a hand out to place on her cheek causing her to flinch a little before leaning into his touch which breaks Chan's heart. “I’m not mad at you, you didn’t know, no one had told you that there were any off limits rooms. It’s okay.”

“Seriously?” Seungmin grunts throwing his arms up in the air and rolls his eyes causing Chan to glare at him.

“Go to your room, Seungmin.” The alpha growls and his eyes harden when the younger boy doesn’t move. “NOW.”

The omega jumps a little at Chan’s voice and cowers when Seungmin stomps past.

“I’m sorry if that scared you.” Chan rubs his thumb on her cheek. “And I’m sorry for Seungmin, did he hurt you?”

Y/n shake’s her head no not wanting the beta to get in anymore trouble for hurting her wrist more but Chan saw how hard he had a hold of her injured wrist.

“I’m sorry for snooping.”

“You have no reason to apologize.” He coos. “No one told you that we keep that room closed for a reason. And you’re just trying to get a better understanding of the house, right?”

“Yeah.” She nods before looking away from him. “Can I ask why that room is off limits? And… who is that guy in the pictures?”

Chan sighs. “That room used to belong to that guy in the pictures.” She notices how he clenches his jaw as though it's a hard subject to talk about. “Can I tell you more another time? It’s a complicated and delicate subject. And I need to deal with Seungmin.”

“Yeah.” She whispers and just after, the sound of the front door opening and Jisung yelling her name is heard. 

“Why don’t you go see what the pups have for you.” Chan smiles and hurries her along before he goes to the youngest beta’s room

Y/n walks down the stairs to see Jisung, Felix and Jeongin bringing in bags and bags of pillows, blankets, plushies, and two bags of clothes.

“What is all of this?” Her eyes widen in shock before she moves to inspect the contents.

“Nesting materials.” Jisung beams at her as he starts pulling out some soft fluffy blankets. 

“Some for the communal nest in the den. I want you to help me remake it.” Felix starts to explain. “And some of it is for the rest of the house to start getting all of our scents on it so you can use them for nesting, both in your room and for us when we need to update the den.”

“And I picked out some comfy clothes for this weekend.” Jeongin shows her the variety of sleep shorts and pajama pants, soft t-shirts, sweatshirts and crewnecks. “We plan to take you on a proper shopping spree later.”

“You guys didn’t have to do all of this.” The omega feels a wave of emotions overcome her as she tries to hold back happy tears.

“Yes we did.” Jisung pulls her to him, wrapping her in a big hug. “You needed some proper stuff, we just happened to go a little bit overboard with it.”

“A little bit?” Changbin laughs walking into the living room from the home gym as he wipes the sweat away with a towel around his neck. “It looks like you guys bought the whole store.”

“We weren’t sure exactly which materials she would prefer more, so we got several of each.” Felix pouts as if it was a logical thought to him.

“How thoughtful.” The alpha ruffles Felix’s hair, kissing his head before pulling both Jisung and Y/n to his chest as the beta was still hugging her.

“Eww, hyung, you stink.” Jisung tries to move them away. “Go take a shower.

“Only if you join me, baby.” Changbin smirks at how flustered the younger one gets.

“Binnie, not in front of the omegas.” Jisung wines before letting go of Y/n as he gets dragged away by the alpha. 

“Gross.” Jeongin scrunches up his nose at the two before turning to the two omega’s. “I’ll go ahead and get your new clothes washed so you can put them away in your room. Lix, where do you want all the nesting materials?”

“Leave them for now, whatever we don’t use in the den I’ll distribute between all of the rooms to get everyone's scent.” 

Jeongin nods before taking the bags of clothes to the laundry room as Felix drags Y/n into the den.

“Alright, let's strip this nest and rebuild it.” Felix starts before noticing the omega standing outside of it unsure. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never actually built a nest before.” She rings her fingers together. “I don’t know what to do or how it’s supposed to go.”

“It’s okay, that’s why I’m here to help you.” He holds his hand out to her and brings her into the nest. “Your omega instincts are supposed to tell you how it wants it to feel like but I know yours are suppressed right now. So for now do it based on how you would want certain scents and textures where. Once the suppressants wear off and you're better we can redo it again with better instincts.”

Y/n nods and helps strip the nest before they get to work on rebuilding it. They use a mix of the old materials as they still have the packs scents on them as well as the new ones just bought as they both like how it feels. Once they were done they went around and distributed the rest of the blankets, pillows and plushies around the house. Felix took some to each of the members' rooms and Y/n placed some in the living room and the game room now the Hyunjin is no longer in there.

“I think we did good.” Felix beamed after they were both done and came back to the den. He grinned at the omega before tackling her into the nest, cuddling her. “Now I think it’s time for omega bonding.”

“You didn’t omega bond enough when you guys were making the nest?” Jeongin walks in with a basket of Y/n's new clean and folded clothes.”

“Not like this.” Felix pouts.

Jeongin smiles before motioning to the basket. “Where do you want me to put these, Y/nnie?”

“You can set them by the doorway, I’ll take them up to my room and put them away when Lixie lets go of me.” She smiles and wiggles against the other omega to make him laugh. “Thank you for washing them for me Innie, I could have done that later.”

“It’s no problem.” 

“Seriously?” Hyunjin walks in from the back door with some of his art supplies, stopping when he sees the two in the nest. “Now she’s contaminating our den?” Jeongin growls at the older member as the beta gets closer to the nest. “And did you guys let her remake the nest? There’s no way I’m doing anything in there now.”

“Jinnie, she needed to since she’s going to need to be in the den during her dry heat.” Felix sits up to reason with Hyunjin.

“Why?” He scoffs. “She can just stick it out in the room she’s staying in.”

“You stormed off when we were discussing everything about it so you don’t get to have a say on where she goes or how we go about this.” Jeongin crosses his arms trying to assert his dominance even though he's younger than the beta. 

“Whatever.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes and walks away heading upstairs. 

Felix pouts, wishing both Hyunjin and Seungmin would come around to their omega, his scent souring a little which causes Y/n’s to also sour as she feels she’s the cause of all of this.

Jeongin crawls into the nest and pulls the two to him. “Come here.” He coos as he scents both of them trying to sooth them as much as possible before just cuddling them. “My omegas.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

When Minho got home from work and getting groceries he texted the other three alphas to help him bring everything in but only Chan and Chanbin came.

“Where’s Innie?” 

“I haven't seen him since he got home from shopping with Ji and Lix.” Changbin furrows his brows as he opens the trunk. 

“Y/n didn’t exactly know what she likes for food and drinks since her family limited her.” Minho explains as they start grabbing bags. “So I got different kinds of snacks and drinks and just some normal filling foods for meals for her dry heat to make sure she gets enough nutrients and then after I plan to just make meals as normal and we'll learn what she likes and doesn’t like.”

“God I’m hating her family more and more each day.” Changbin growls as they take all the bags inside. 

“I’m pretty sure all of us feel the same way.” Chan sighs as he sets bags on the kitchen counter.

“I also got her some heating pads to hopefully help soothe the cramps.” Minho pulled them out of a bag and was about to put them in the den when he noticed Seungmin and Hyunjin standing in the doorway of it with their arms crossed. 

All the alphas walk over to question what they’re doing when they realize Jeongin is cuddled up with Y/n, Felix and Jisung, who had joined after showering with Changbin, in the nest napping. This causes the three alphas to melt at the sight of it, especially when they hear both omegas purring. They don’t get to hear Felix purr very often.

Minho notices that Y/n’s bruised wrist seems to be worse than it was when he had put the bruising cream on it this morning and is a bit irritated causing him to frown and furor his eyebrows. He gets Chan’s attention and motions to his wrist before pointing to her. Chan realizes what he means and scowls at how worse her wrist looks before mouthing Seungmin’s name. Minho huffs and glares at the beta before angrily turning back to putting the groceries away. 

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this series

Tag list: @estella-novella @mbioooo0000 @ms-flowergirl @blindspot143 @sinfulfic @ihrtlix @arishoriasims @fic-for-readers @motheraiya55 @hwangrfrnd @pixie0627 @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @juskz @borahae-reads @dreamerwasfound @galaxy4489

[nina-ya]

Little Red's Desires (Ace x Reader NSFW)

A/N: HIHIHIHI This was a trade originally done for @raddelusionaldive and her oc Harper for a trade in my server!! I had a lot of fun writing this I always love writing for ace!! Pairing: Ace x AFAB reader CW: NSFW MINORS DNI, modern au but like that's barely relevant, car sex, hair pulling (ace gets his pulled), p in v sex, riding, creampie, uh I think that's all! • masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

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Costume parties- one of the few events where it's acceptable, almost required, to dress up as the most outlandish things and get away with it. The ridiculous, the elaborate, the downright absurd. And naturally, you and Ace had to participate. You would of course show off these outfits at a random house party you were invited to by one of your friends. 

The freckled man had chosen a werewolf costume with faux fur paws, clip on ears, a collar with a little charm dangling from the center, and the fangs- cheap and poorly fitted, but perfectly Ace. His all-black outfit was decorated with touches of gold accents that shined under the dim lights of the party, and the piece de resistance, his coat was merely there to cover his arms, leaving his chest out there for the world to admire. 

Meanwhile, you had opted to match him with a Little Red Riding Hood outfit. Innocence and fierceness all wrapped up in a crimson cloak and a flash of red lipstick. You were adjusting your ensemble when a familiar presence broke you out of your focus. 

When you looked up, there Ace was, already grinning, plastic fangs glinting under the dim lights. Ace had arrived to the party fashionably late, though you knew that he would be held up by his job. However, this knowledge did not stop the smile that graced your face at the sight of him finally making his appearance. He prowled over, eyes fixed on her like you were a prize he had been hunting for hours. 

“Well look at you, Red,” he drawled, leaning close, fangs bared in a shameless grin. “Pretty sure I’m supposed to be the one doing the hunting tonight, but here you are aiming straight for my heart with that outfit.”

You couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped past your lips. “Not my fault the big bad wolf decided to leave his chest out,” you teased, your fingers lightly toying with the fur on his coat. “Makes you an easy target, don’t you think?”

The banter came naturally like it always does when it comes to you two, but tonight the costumes added a layer of intrigue to the whole exchange, bringing out a whole new side of you. Throughout the entire night, you caught him stealing glances at you, finding excuses to always be by your side despite your respective friends pulling you in separate directions. He was just a guy in a werewolf costume yearning for the girl who had chosen to be his Red. 

He caught you later on in the night, approaching you as you sipped a mystery concoction that was sure to give you a hangover the next morning. 

“So, Red Riding Hood, what are you doing around these parts?” His fingers settled under your chin, playfully tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Didn’t anyone tell you there’s a wolf on the loose?”

You raised an eyebrow, scarlet lips curving into a daring smile. “Well, maybe I was looking for trouble.” You poked his chest, finger lingering on his warm skin. “But it seems like I found something… softer.”

Ace chuckled, clearly delighted by the back and forth. “Soft? Alright, I’ll let that side.” He placed his hand dramatically over his heart, pretending to be wounded by your words. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Red.”

“Cute?” You scoffed, “Pretty bold for a guy in cheap fangs.”

His mouth quirked up as he tilted his head, giving you a good, hard look that sent a thrill through her. His fingers traced from your chin down your neck and across your collarbone until they found the edge of your cloak, his thumb tracing along the fabric. “Cheap fangs, maybe. But I make ‘em work, don’t I?”

Ace was way too good at this and you found yourself at a loss for words for the first time that night. In a bid to keep yourself grounded, you glanced down at the drink in his hand and plucked it away, drinking the contents before stacking the now-empty cup under your existing drink. 

“Hey!” He protested, reaching for it, but it was futile as the drink was long gone. “You-Red, you’re ruthless.”

You just laughed, both at the action and the way he almost broke character all over stealing his booze. “Maybe I can be a little dangerous too. Besides, wolves shouldn’t be drinking. They might forget what they’re hunting.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, sending a shiver down your spine. Ace leaned in, lips lightly caressing your ear as he muttered to you, “maybe so. Tell you what, if you’re so dangerous, why don’t you show me?” 

You could swear her heart stopped just for a beat at the proposition, her mind running through all the different scenarios he could possibly be thinking – of course most of them involving much much less clothing. You gnawed at your lip and turned to face him meeting his black eyes as you slid away from him, extending your hand to his, fingers outstretched in an invitation. “Now why would I reveal my tricks so early in the night?” you asked. “Dance with me, and maybe I’ll show you.” 

Without a second thought, Ace slipped his hand into yours as you pulled him close, a grin of satisfaction curving your lips. 

The music thrummed in the background, loud enough to drown out any conversation you were having from curious ears. Ace began to dance with you, spinning you around in a way that had you praying for dear life that your drink didn't spill under the excuse that he just wanted to see the way your dress twirls. You were in their own little world, almost forgetting that you were in a crowded party. 

Every now and then, he’d lean down, whispering nonsense in your ear such as remarks about how he was definitely a much more terrifying wolf than the other guy across the room, or complaining about the itchiness of the fake fur gloves. And you would laugh, the sound sometimes drawing glances from others, but you hardly noticed, not when you were with him. It was nice that you could revel in the silliness of the holiday, the harmless play, and flirt with lines that you may not be able to say on an ordinary day. 

Ace let out a dramatic sigh, his hands settling on your hips as his eyes raked over you. “Guess we’re going to have to start coming to more of these things if it means seeing you like this,” he murmured, almost to himself. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the wolf here is starting to look a little lovesick.” 

He leaned closer, feigning innocence as his fingers traced your side. “Nah, just… captivated is all.” His hand squeezed your side, emphasizing his words. “Can’t blame me, can you?”

You didn’t respond, instead, you slipped a hand up his chest, reaching his neck and playing with the collar that adorned it. You eyed the accessory dangling from the center, tracing your fingers along the ridges until you gripped the charm hanging from the center, making eye contact with Ace once more. Before he could ask what you were doing, you tugged him in, brushing your lips softly over his. Ace’s eyes widened for just a moment before his hands slipped around your waist, pulling you in as he responded by capturing your lips in a slow, searing kiss. You barely heard the delighted whistles of encouragement from the onlookers, and you only broke apart when the playful shout of “get a room!” carried over the music. 

You two pulled apart, slightly breathless, smiling at each other as Ace took initiative and took ahold of your hand, gently tugging you. “Looks like that's our cue, isn't it?” he said, backing up as he started to guide you out of the house.

You slipped out of the crowded room, past all of the laughter and thumping music, into the quiet of a hallway where Ace’s pace quickened, weaving the two of you through the partygoers with you right at his side, laughing as you reached the door. Once outside, Ace pulled you through the cars parked out front until he found his, fumbling in his pocket for his keys until he was able to unlock the door with a beep. The two of you wasted no time. You climbed into the backseat over Ace, settling onto his lap as his hands latched around your waist, gripping tightly. 

It was suffocatingly close in the car, air dense with tension. Each breath seemed to grow shorter as Ace’s hands roamed over your body, trailing up your sides, slipping beneath the edge of your dress, claiming whatever they found. 

“You got the look down,” you murmured, voice low as you leaned in and captured his lips in a deep kiss. You pulled back briefly and adjusted in his lap, feeling him already hard against you, straining against the fabric. “Big bad wolf… but I don't think you’re as scary as you let on,” you said as you rolled your hips against his, pulling a groan from the man. 

Ace’s laugh was a rough, throaty rumble as his fingers tightened their hold on you, pushing you down as he rolled his up into you. “You’re in dangerous territory, Red,” he huffed out.

His hands slid further up your dress with a slow, savoring touch, fingertips dancing along your thighs and up until a hand settled between your legs, fingers pressing into the soaked spot of your panties. His gaze darkened, lips curling into a smug smirk as he slid your panties aside, prodding at the wetness. 

“Eager aren’t you?” he murmured, voice dripping with a rough-edged satisfaction. He removed his fingers and his hand reached for his mouth, taking in the digits and tasting your essence. His fingers popped out of his mouth, and he smirked at the lust-blown look on your face as you witnessed the action. 

Wordlessly, he reached down and fumbled with the buckle of his pants, metal softly clinking as he freed himself from his pants. You looked down and saw the tip glistening with precum, aching to be inside of you. He lifted you up enough to position himself under you, the tip smearing your arousal against him, and he pushed in. deep. The head of his cock pushed through your entrance and he filled you up, stretching you around him and reaching places you didn’t think was possible. 

His hips met yours with a sharp thrust, and he set a punishing pace that left you gasping and scrambling for balance. Ace’s mouth found your neck, his hot breath teasing against the sensitive skin before his teeth scraped down to your shoulder. The strap of your dress slipped down under his rough hands until, with a sharp tug, it gave way, the delicate sound of tearing fabric swallowed by a low and hungry groan. 

Your top slipped, baring one breast to the cool air, and he wasted no time, his mouth latching around your nipple, tongue swirling and teeth nipping at the sensitive bud, pulling a series of breathy moans from your throat. Your back arched, pressing further into him and his other hand gripped your clothed breast, leaving faint impressions of his fingers as he devoured every part of you that he could reach. 

All of the sensations- the suffocating cramped space of the car, the way his cock is deliciously thrusting up into you, his mouth and hand on your breasts- it was almost too much, and you were sent into a spiral, broken gasps and sobs slipping past your lips the longer he went on. 

Confidence fueled by the wild intensity of the moment had your fingers threading through Ace’s hair, pulling back with a harsh tug. His hips faltered for a moment as he moaned out, surrendering as you pushed him back against the worn leather seat, reveling in the way his body just yielded to you. You took the moment to breathe as you looked into his hungry eyes and took over. 

“Fuck-” Ace panted out. “Look’s like I-I’m the prey tonight, hah,” Ace continued in an attempt to tease you. But you silenced him with a sharp glare, muttering a ‘shut up’ as you set your own rhythm, bouncing on his cock in a way that made him let out a breathy groan. 

His hands found your waist, guiding you and helping you find the perfect angle as you rode him, the sound of the car creaking under your movements fills the air alongside your shared gasps. The way he filled you wasn’t enough. There was a hunger growing in you that you needed to satisfy. You gripped his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin as you moved faster, chasing your high with every roll of your hips.

His eyes were glued to your form, drinking in the way you lost yourself in the haze, and the only sounds leaving his lips now were breathy moans and low curses as you inflicted more pleasure upon him.

“God, you feel so good,” he groaned out, voice strained. “Keep going, just like that.” 

The urgency in his voice was utterly intoxicating, every syllable that he utters pushing you further into the bliss you craved. You could feel the pleasure building inside of you and you tightened around him, feeling him twitch in response and giving your hips a squeeze.

And then it happened. The dam of pleasure broke, euphoria crashing over you as you surrendered to the waves of ecstasy. You cried out, the sound raw and unfiltered as your body began to quiver, muscles spasming and clenching around him. The rush was all-consuming, a blinding light that left you trembling and gasping for breath. 

The sensation of your release pulsed like wildfire, your hole creaming around him, slick and warm. You could feel his breath hitching in his throat, his hands gripping your waist tighter as he guided you through your orgasm. 

“Shit, Red…” he breathed, voice trembling as he felt your walls clench tighter around him, squeezing him like a vice. His thrusts became frantic, each push somehow deeper than the last, and with a final surge of energy, he followed you over the edge, his own release crashing over him as his cock pulsed inside of you, coating your insides with ropes of milky white cum. 

As your highs intertwined, the world outside faded into oblivion. You collapsed against his sweat-slicked body, both of you breathing heavily as you took a moment to recover. You were the first to break the silence as you remembered that you had snuck off from the party, muttering, “you think anyone noticed?” 

Ace let out a sigh, looking down at you with a smirk. “Yeah, they probably noticed,” he replied, placing a kiss on your temple. “We should probably clean up before someone comes knocking at my window saying I'm blocking their car.”

You giggled and nodded, capturing his lips in a chaste kiss before attempting to pull yourself together, despite your chest hanging out due to your ripped dress. That didn’t bother you too much though, rather you were more focused on how your limbs now feel like jelly, courtesy of the man in the wolf costume right beneath you.

What a Happy Halloween indeed.